


The Nausea Before The Game

by 221Bowtie



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I AM SORRY, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not your usual Whizzer is a baseball coach AU, Sick Character, Smut, a loooooot, and so many bad jokes jfc, and so much coming in your pants, and there is A LOT of internalized homophobia, at some points, but it is an au, it's mostly a character study, there is so much cussing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221Bowtie/pseuds/221Bowtie
Summary: A house, a wife, a kid and a well-paying job: Marvin is living the American Dream in the New York of the 70s. So why is he so goddamn unhappy?That is, until one fateful encounter with Jason’s new camp counsellor brings up long suppressed feelings and a series of self-discovery (both figuratively and literally).---The growing up, the falling downThe throwing up, the shameThe silent prayers, the nauseaThe game





	1. How Marvin Eats His Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Sup, friends!  
> I recently wrote a really long fanfiction from Whizzer's point of view and it made me want to write one on Marvin SO BAD. So here goes nothing!  
> This is the first time I am writing a fanfic with an actual plot and not just a series of One Shots, so wish me luck, yo.

“Marvin, I told you not to buy that anymore!”

“Huh? Buy what?”

“That!”

“The bowls? I didn’t buy these bowls, you bought them last Saturd-“

“No, not the bowls! The cereal! I’ve told you a million times that it’s way too overpriced!”

Marvin frowned, dropping his spoon back into his bowl. “But I want to eat Lucky Charms, Trina,” he argued. 

Trina had stopped bustling around the kitchen like an ant on a mission, to give him a scolding glare. 

“You can buy the store brand, it’s cheaper and tastes the same!” Trina elaborated as she turned back to the pan, glancing over at her husband, and catching him rolling his eyes at her. 

He put the box back on the table and his chin in his hand, looking back at the - now soggy - Lucky Charms in the bright pink bowl. 

He bit his lip, counting to ten in his head. 

This was fucking ridiculous. 

He was the man of the house.

Every day, every single fucking day, he drove to his fucking office, spend his whole damn day there with people he fucking hated, and then drove back, only to earn fucking money, which he apparently wasn’t even allowed to fucking spend. 

Yeah, sorry for that.

Marvin was a very violent thinker.

In his mind, it was almost liberating. 

An act of rebellion.

That was, because, by Trina’s standards, since ten fucking years, he hadn’t been allowed to utter any swearword in a 20 mile radius around their son.

And, let’s be honest, “frick” or “dang” are just not doing the job.

So he mostly just reduced his swearing to his thoughts.

Trina spend all day in this house, doing god-knows-what.

He understood it when Jason had been little, but now it was getting fucking ridiculous. 

She was spending her time buying decorations they didn’t need and going to book clubs and just happily swiping his fucking credit card.

And now she was going to tell him what kind of cereal to buy?!

Fucking goddamn ridiculous.

He didn’t say anything, though.

Because then they’d just fight again, and he’d yell and she’d cry and all of that because of fucking cereal.

He just counted in his head, hoping that would calm him down.

He used to try to say the ABCs backwards, but it just made him more aggressive.

You know how it is.

If you don’t, try to do it now.

Yeah, I know. It’s hard to even get past X.

What the fuck even comes before X?

Marvin counted to twenty.

And then to thirty.

It helped a little.

He was a good husband.

She really never appreciated that.

She really didn’t.

Trina never saw how much he was holding back just to make her happy.

He counted to forty.

“Lucky Charms are magically delicious,” his son, Jason, interrupted him at 36.

The 10 year-old sat next to Marvin, his skinny legs dangling over the edge of his chair, not quite reaching the floor yet. Until now, he had been absorbed in his chess game, but apparently he had picked up some bits of the conversation.

That was the trouble with having a kid, you never know how much they are going to pick up. 

Of course they never listen when you talk to them about house rules, life lessons or math equations, but when you fight about the smallest thing, they suddenly come running, and later in life they make you pay for their therapy sessions.

“The only magic in them is that it’s pure sugar,” Trina answered. “Actually, if I think about it, we shouldn’t buy them at all anymore. They’re bad for you, they have no nutritional value whatsoever.”

Nutritional value.

Wowie.

Uh, hello?!

Lucky Charms provide 25% of daily nutritional needs for seven essential vitamins and iron as established by the U.S. Government.

That’s what it says on the fucking box!

By the U.S. fucking Government! 

As if they’d try to poison their citizens! 

Plus, Marvin was a full grown adult, he didn’t give a fuck about nutritional value. 

Suddenly she thought she was the Queen of Health or something. 

She! Imagine that! Mrs. Three-glasses-of-wine every single night, before bed!

He counted to fifty.

To sixty.

He watched Jason continue his chess game. 

Jason was winning. 

He seemed to be happy about that. 

A little too happy considering he was playing against himself.

He watched Trina wipe the table, making him have to lift up his bowl.

Why couldn’t she just do that after he had was done?

It was not like she had any obligations to go anywhere, to do anything or to – god forbit – go to work. 

So why did she just have to do it while Marvin was still eating?

Marvin passive-aggressively dropped his bowl back on the hard-wood table (for which he paid for - by the way - just like everything fucking else in this house. And for the house. And for the mortgage.), before he got up, making his way down the hall, to get the hell out of here.

“Oh, you’re leaving already, darling?” Trina asked, looking after him.

Darling, huh?

So they were going to play this game again.

First she was going to insult him and his integrity in his own home and then she was going to act all lovey-dovey.

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Marvin sighed, as he put on his coat, although it was July and he definitely did not need it. He just wanted to have something to do.

She followed him to the door, nodding thoughtfully as she handed him his brief case, “have a great day then!”

“Yeah. Thanks. Well, bye, Jason!” he called over at his son, who didn’t even look up from his game. 

“See you” he said then, looking down at Trina, absolutely dreading the next moment.

“Bye, I love you!” she smiled, placing a kiss on his lips.

“I love you too!”

He hated his fucking life.


	2. Happy or Sad? That’s a Question With No Answer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lights in the clubs went on and people - those homosexuals - were dancing and jumping around outside.
> 
> To Marvin, it was almost like they didn’t even know they were miserable.
> 
> To be honest, they looked like normal people. 
> 
> For some reason, he found this disappointing.
> 
> For some reason, he found this comforting.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting! They are like sick sadomasochists or something. They use whips and I don’t even know what and just beat each other up and get off on that!”

“Woah, really?”

“Yes, really! My uncle told me! That’s why they love to dress up as girls and put on dresses and lipstick and-“

“They put on dresses?! Full grown men? Nah, no way!”

“Yes way! Didn’t you see them at the parades and in the streets? The homosexuals - I dunno - that’s what they call themselves. They put on dresses and then they beat each other up and that makes them get really hard and get off. They’re sick in the head, my dad says, they act like women because they want to be dominated and –“

“Excuse me. Would it be possible for you two to...I don't know? Shut the fuck up?!” Marvin said dryly, looking up from his files, glaring over at the two interns, who were standing next to the file cabinet, just mindlessly chatting away. 

“We don’t pay you two chatterboxes to talk about– whatever.”

“Technically you don’t pay us at all,” Intern ‘I-act-all-smart-but-fuck-up-doing-the-easiest-tasks’ replied, making Marvin tense up.

“Chad, do you want me to call your father? Again?” he argued, the intern immediately backing off again.

“No…” he mumbled.

“But I mean come on. You know it’s totally disgusting what those fairies are doing!” the other one, Intern ‘I-almost-started-a-fire-because-I-left-my-sandwich-in-the-toaster-oven-for-three-hours’, intersected.

“Yeah, disgusting!” Chad chimed back in, in the new-found confidence teenagers get when others agree with them.

When Marvin had been an intern, he had been terrified of the grown-ups in the office.

It’s called respect.

These kids, 16 years old and forced by their parents to get some work experience for their college application, thought they knew everything, when they knew nothing.

Nothing at all.

He wanted to yell at them.

Instead, he took a deep breath, staring at the cabinet file next to them.

“Just scram. Go do something productive for once?” he sighed, but noticed that they had already left, now standing by the fax machine, still chatting.

Probably still talking about these disgusting topics.

Men dressed in dresses.

Men dominating other men.

Men liking other men.

Disgusting.

He turned back to his work, trying to concentrate on the numbers on his paper. 

He couldn’t.

After all, it really was hard to get the image out of one’s head.

Every normal human being would have been unable to just turn off those thoughts.

Two men doing things that were only meant for a men and woman, or better: for a husband and wife.

It was a silly thought.

How would that even work?

It was not like they taught you that at school.

Not that they should, of course.

It was not like Marvin cared about it, anyways.

It was just that, at school, they barely taught you how it worked between a man and a woman and even then they left out important details.

Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t send the interns away. 

He kind of wanted to hear more about this thing. 

Dressing up in dresses and then letting the other man beat you up sounded crazy. However he did see the parades on TV and he did see men in dresses and other men with whips, so maybe that was really how the whole thing worked?

Not that he cared, of course.

He didn’t care at all.

It was just that it was really sick, you know? 

Really, really sick.

He looked back at the interns, glancing at the clock above the fax machine.

It was almost 5o’clock. 

Almost time to finally go home. 

He should stay late tonight.

He still had a lot to do.

He still had to fill out the Johnson file and- well, nothing else.

Still, that file was a lot of work.

Filling out the blank spots on the paper, putting in numbers.

It was a lot of work.

Okay, it honestly wasn’t a lot of work.

He could just do it tomorrow and it’d probably only take him around 15 minutes, but still.

He should just stay late.

Again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home, that’d be weird. 

He did want to go home! He just stayed late because he absolutely had to. 

He had a lot to do. 

He had to earn money for his family!

Oh and also, if he got home he and Trina would probably just spend that time fighting anyway, they always did. 

They always found something to fight over. 

So he should just stay at work and use that time. 

And just come home when she was already asleep. 

Yes, he should definitely make sure she was already asleep when he came home.

Not like last time, when she had still been awake as he lay down next to her and she started to kiss his neck and – 

He should just stay late.

He calmly watched the others pack up their things, drawing little spirals on the margins of his paper. 

The interns, of course, were the first ones to bust out of the door, then Miller, then Wallace. 

Harrison was already on his phone with his wife, telling her how he was going to come home now and how excited he was. They were newly-wed, so it was probably excusable. 

Although Marvin and Trina had never been that way. 

When they married, Trina had been 6 months pregnant and they were both still in college. 

So no time of sleeping around or finding yourself in college for either of them. 

No time of experimenting. 

Not that he needed that anyways. 

If anything it was romantic, spending your first time with the person you’ll then marry because she gets pregnant. 

Super romantic.

What a love story they had.

-

An empty office at night is a kind of surreal place.

Every empty place at night is a surreal place, don't you think?

A long room with grey carpet and about ten white tables scattered around it. 

Grey desks and grey chairs, the only sign of life the decorations on them.

Harrison’s had his wedding picture, two plain, boring people in the usual wedding getup, holding hands and smiling into the camera as if it was the greatest day of their lives. 

Marvin already knew that it wasn’t.

It was just the day you damn yourself to a life of eternal fights and build up frustration. 

Wallace’s had some weird porcelain figures of kittens, which Marvin absolute despised and had the impulse to smash, every time she started to explain them and their names to him. 

Miller had five individual photo frames for each of his sons, all tall and muscular boys, each one holding a different kind of ball up into the camera, ranging from golf ball over football to basketball. 

Marvin didn’t even want to know if this was just an unlucky idea or if there was a connotation and joke about the size of their actual balls implied in this. 

Judging from knowing Miller, he thought it might be latter. 

Marvin’s desk was empty. 

He really didn’t see the reason in clogging up his work space with pictures of people he saw every day anyway.

Outside the streets were full of people, the trees were blooming, the cars were honking, the tourists were walking around like stray cats.

New York in the summer time.

Not quite as popular as New York in the winter time, but still.

He had never understood what all the fuss about winter was about anyway.

Sure, they had the ice-skating rink at the Rockefeller Center, but that was always full to the very brim, extremely overpriced and unbelievably dirty.

Sure, sometimes they got snow, but that melted in the matter of hours and left the streets cold and slippery.

New York was a grey city, full of tall, metallic buildings, full of dirt and full of broken dreams of college kids.

Kids who came here, trying to escape their rural background, hoping to find a kind of multicultural, diverse and accepting utopia. 

Instead, they found an overpriced, tiny apartment, and a boring 9 to 5 job in which they got stuck forever, since they had a family now who they avoided through working over-time. 

And that was, if you were lucky.

New York was a messed up city.

It was an open secret that the mafia, if they didn’t run the whole town, at least ran many bars in town. 

The mafia would open bars for these people - these...homosexuals - and pay off the cops, so that they wouldn’t bust them. 

When they forgot to pay, however, the police came and busted them, taking the gay people to prison or beat them up and left them there. 

Marvin stared outside, at the streets of New York. 

He knew there were tons of these bars in Greenwich village, in Christopher Street. 

A crazy thought crossed his mind. 

An utterly irrational, foolish thought.

What if…maybe…just maybe…-

What if he went to check it out? 

No, that’d be insane!

Why would he even do that?

Well, first of all he could check it out for scientific purposes. Just to see what all the hustle was about. Hell, maybe he’d even tell his interns about it. 

It was totally harmless! 

He was just going to stroll by. 

He was just going to go and see what the people did there. 

It was an adventure. 

He was an adventurer on a voyage. 

He needed to know what kind of city he lived in, after all. 

What kind of parts of town his son could accidentally wander into. 

What harm could it be? 

Even if he’d come across some of those people, they’d be no harm. 

What were those fairies against him? He was a straight, married father, he could easily beat them up, if push came to shove. 

At the thought of going he felt something, that was almost like excitement, like purpose. 

He quickly grabbed his coat and picked up his briefcase, before he could change his mind again, making his way to the door.

-

He didn’t even register the way there, his head being full of his wildest dreams of the street and what he’d encounter there. 

He expected the street to almost be frozen in time: people being who they wanted to be, doing what they wanted to do and with they wanted to do it with. People cross dressing, colorful banners everywhere, people celebrating and dancing, the stuff you see at the parades. 

And just like a kid coming to Disney Land for the first time, he soon discovered that it wasn’t at all what he had expected it to be like.

Christopher Street was a narrow, dirty street, trash piling up on the sidewalk. 

It was surrounded by dozens of different bars and corner stores with undetectable names, the signs already full of dust and marked by spray paint, only some teenagers lingering around in front of it. 

The deeper he walked into the street, the dirtier it became. Drug addicts and homeless people sat on the ground, some huddled in dirty rags, others without anything.

He figured, the interns might have been right for the first time in their lives. 

Maybe this was a place for people longing to get beat up and longing to pretend to be someone else. 

Maybe that really was how it worked. 

He didn’t even know why that made him so sad.

It was not like he could relate to this people, not like they had anything to do with him.

Still, he felt sad.

The later it got, the more the streets seemed to start to fill up. 

He sat down on the steps of a shut-down bar, which apparently had been destroyed in some riots. The windows were broken, the door hang on its hinges and inside glasses and bottles scattered the floor. 

Marvin felt terribly misplaced, although it was warm, he felt terribly cold, wrapping his coat around himself, sitting there on the dirty steps.

Still, he couldn’t walk away either. 

Strangely, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

He couldn’t do anything else, than continue to watch the street. More and more people came, people of all ages and ethnicities this time, mingling with the teenagers who were already plenty drunk at this point. 

By ten o’clock the music started. 

The lights in the clubs went on and people were dancing and jumping around outside, scrambling to be the first one in line to get inside. 

To Marvin, it was almost like they didn’t even know they were miserable.

He wasn’t able to see everything that was going on, since they mostly just made their way into the clubs and vanished from his sight. 

All he could make out where the people outside who stayed outside after the queue calmed down, standing leaned against the brick walls, talking and sipping from bottles.

To be honest, they looked like normal people. 

Some guys had on shorter shorts than normal, some girls had really short hair, that was about it. 

For some strange reason, he found this disappointing.

For some even stranger reason, he found this comforting.

“Hey Sweetie. You lookin’ for a special someone?” A voice startled him. 

“Excuse me? Oh…oh no, no, no…I’m not- I’m just- I’m married, so..-“ he said and turned around.

It was a man – presumably in his 20s – with black curly hair, a patchy stubble of a beard and a scrawny, yet strong-looking frame.

“Well, I won’t tell, if you won’t,” the guy grinned, reaching his hand out to Marvin. 

“I…-“ Marvin stuttered.

It wasn’t like he wanted to do anything with the guy. 

Of course not! 

He just wanted to investigate further. He wanted to see how it worked. Like a wild-life explorer. 

Or an undercover journalist.

Yeah, that was the right description! 

He was just going to act like a journalist and ask these stupid five W questions that Jason had told him about.

First question:

Who?

“Who are you?” Marvin tried

“I am whoever you want,” the guy answered, his lips so close to Marvin’s ear, that he felt a tingle running through his body.

Next question:

What?

“I mean what would we even do – how would we even… – “

“Honey, for the right price we can do whatever you want”

When?

“What I want? I mean…what do people normally want? How do you know when to do what?” Marvin asked and the man started to laugh.

Where?

“Where would we even?” Marvin asked, the man taking his hand and pulling him up from the stairs. 

He led him into the abandoned bar behind them, walking a couple steps inside before turning around and leaning against the counter, still grinning. Marvin shifted a little, uncomfortably fiddling with his keys in his coat pocket. 

Maybe this was getting too real. 

Maybe he should just go. 

The guy took off his shirt.

Maybe he should wait a little longer.

Just to see where this was going.

He reached out, pulling Marvin closer by his arm, before his hands roamed over his body.

Marvin was mesmerized. 

He couldn’t stop staring at the bare torso that was just inches away from him. He could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. He wanted to touch his chest, but didn’t dare to, while his face came nearer and nearer, the grin still on his lips. 

He needed to say something.

Needed to take charge of the situation.

Needed to explore.

But he also needed to appear confident.

He needed to know what to do.

And he did know what to do, didn’t he?

He knew how this whole thing worked!

He knew how this worked and maybe now was the right time to see, if he liked that kind of thing.

It was now or never.

“Can you… hit me?” Marvin heard himself ask, the man backing away a step, raising his eyebrows. 

“Huh?” 

“Can you just punch me, please?” 

“Punch you?”

“Yeah”

“I mean, I guess? In the face or..?”

“Just…whatever you guys usually do.”

“Eh…okay? I mean if it’s your thing…” 

“Isn’t that what you all do? No, no, don’t answer, I already know it is. Just do it, okay?!”

He punched Marvin in the stomach. 

Fuck, that really hurt.

Marvin groaned in pain, wrapping his arms around his stomach, as he stumbled back.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” The man said immediately, looking at Marvin with a kind of fear in his eyes, as if he was expecting him to punch him back.

“No, no it’s fine. Go on!”

His fist hit Marvin’s chest.

It didn’t feel good, but it felt like Marvin just had to do this. 

He just had to. 

He had to find out of this was something he wanted. 

His foot kicked his shin.

A hand hit his face.

If this was what they had parades over and tried to defend and if this was how they were being intimate was like then maybe it was worth a shot?

His knuckle hit his eye.

Maybe he would even like it. 

Maybe he wanted to be dominated. 

He was a real push-over. He was constantly giving in to Trina, his son didn’t respect him, the interns didn’t respect him. 

Maybe secretly he longed for being dominated. 

So maybe he longed for this?

A knee hit his crotch.

Marvin sank down.

Ok, maybe he didn’t actually long for this.

“Fuckk,” he breathed out, pulling his legs to his chest, burying his face in his hands.

“Shit man. Sorry, uhm… no charge” the man said, his voice still full of fear, as he saw the scene, rushing out of the bar as quickly as he could.

Marvin’s hands were clenched around his knees, pressing his bleeding face against his knees. 

What was he doing?

Why was he doing all of this?

Why wasn’t he just home with his wife and son.

Why couldn’t he just go home, why did he have this urge inside of him.

This urge for these people, this urge to know more, this urge to belong to them, this urge to touch another man, to – 

Someone else entered the bar.

Footsteps came hurrying to him.

“Hey, Mark told me what happened. He’s really sorry, but also confused.. I don’t know. Are you okay?” Someone asked.

Marvin didn’t even bother looking up. 

He didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. 

Never again.

“Shit, you’re bleeding” the man said, kneeling down next to Marvin. 

“Here” he said then, handing him a navy handkerchief. 

Marvin’s sight was blurred and he could make out the person next to him. They seemed to be closer in age, but the man was still younger. 

His hair was a dirty blonde, his eyes brown.

He looked really good.

Objectively speaking, of course.

“I thought only ladies in Jane Austen books had actual handkerchiefs…” Marvin mumbled, as he used it to stop his nose from bleeding onto his button-up.  
For some reason, this made the man smile, “you’re really not from around here, are you” he chuckled.

No, he wasn’t.

This had been a mistake.

A terrible, appalling mistake.

Marvin stood up, stumbling to the door.

“Hey, come on! Don’t walk home like this. You have a home, right? If you don’t, we always have space for one more person,“ the man stood up, reaching his arms out to help Marvin walk.

“Of course, I have a fucking home, okay?! I am not like any of you freaks and I’ll never be. Fuck off. Don’t touch me! You disgust me!” 

The other man didn’t try to help him anymore after that.

He was glad about that.

He stumbled outside, barely able to move. 

He just wanted to go home. 

He realized he had never asked the fifth, most important journalism question:

Why.

So he just asked himself.

Why the fuck was he like this?

Why was he so fucked up?

Why was he doing these fucked up things?

Why did he want to know more about these disgusting things?

Why couldn't he just let go?

Why did he think these thoughts?

Why did he have those feelings?

Why wasn't he happy with his life.

Why was he so sad.

He clenched his hand, noticing he was still holding the handkerchief. 

In unsteady stitches, it had a name clumsily monogrammed on it: Whizzer Brown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!   
> Comment down below, if you get the handkerchief thing (if you don't, bless your little heart!) and what color you think Whizzer would have.


	3. The Pitcher's Handsome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Seems like baseball camp won’t be the most academically challenging experience, after all,” Marvin told Jason, as he saw a kid who was trying to shove a whole baseball into his mouth.
> 
> “Yeah, and the best choice would have been you letting me stay at home, so I can study and play chess,” Jason answered, glaring up at Marvin.
> 
> “I’m not the bad guy here, your mom’s the one who wants you to have a social life!”

“Dad? Dad! Dad!”

“Hmm…”

“Dad, I think I’m sick”

“Go talk to your mother”

“She’s gone already”

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Marvin forced his eyes open, squinting at his son. Jason was standing next to couch on which Marvin had basically collapsed on last night, right after he came through the door.

“Where’d your mom go?” he asked.

“She was pretty angry when you didn’t come home yesterday,” Jason shrugged “when she saw you this morning she told me she was going to Grandma’s for a while. What happened to your face?”

“Nothing.” Marvin rubbed his temples, trying to sit up, but his whole head was still spinning. 

This was just great. 

Now Trina was freaking out again and was going to complain to her mother about him. As if her mother didn’t already hate him and think their marriage had been a mistake. 

He didn’t have time to think about that now, though.

His son was still standing in front of him, an unusual spark of curiosity in his eyes, as he eyed his father. 

“Did you get beat up?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t get beat up, Jason. Don't be ridiculous.” he sighed, looking up at the clock over the mantel.

7 o’clock.

He breathed out.

Enough time to get to work on time.

“You look like you got beat up!”

“Some junkie jumped me, that’s all. That’s why I always tell you to be careful and not stay out too late,” Marvin lied, making an attempt at standing up. He hovered in the air for a second, before dropping back down on the couch. He looked down at his, now absolutely wrinkled and still blood-stained suit and bend down to take off his shoes.

“Aren’t junkies like super weak?”

“They aren’t, if they are on withdrawal and need new money for drugs”

“Did they take your wallet?”

“No, they didn’t”

“So you fought them off?”

“Sure did”

“I have a hard time believing that...”

“Watch your tone. Anyway… didn’t you say something about feeling sick?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jason seemed to remember his scheme, throwing in a hurried fake cough, “my throat hurts and uhm…my head and my tummy and I think I have a fever”

As many talents as the kid had, acting wasn’t one of them.

Marvin fought back the urge to roll his eyes again, patting the spot next to him on the couch and Jason reluctantly sat down. Marvin reached out his hand, wiping a stray curl away, before laying his palm against the kid’s forehead. 

“You don’t feel warm” he said, dropping his hand again. 

“That’s a really unscientific method to measure fever,” Jason argued. 

“Yeah, okay, maybe no fever, but my head still hurts,” he went on, as he saw the look Marvin gave him.

Marvin never really knew which kind of parent he wanted to be. 

On one hand he really didn’t give a fuck, if Jason missed school for one day, on the other hand he didn’t want to be one of those hippie parents and knew that Jason needed rules. 

Either way, he was probably screwed already. 

It was the choice between Jason telling his therapist, later in his life, that his dad had been a push-over or a strict tyrant.

He was too tired for this.

“You hungry?” he asked, to Jason’s surprise, standing up and he was finally able to take an actual step, without falling over again. 

He made his way over to the kitchen, putting two bowls on the table. Jason followed him, looking as if he thought his father had finally lost it now. 

“Where’s the cereal?” Marvin asked him, opening the cupboards. 

“Mom threw it out yesterday, when she was mad at you. She also yelled a bunch.”

“Of course she did. Sorry about that, buddy,” Marvin sighed, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

Jason shrugged, fake coughing again, before he sat down at the kitchen table. “Yeah, that really messed me up,” he said, changing his plan from being sick to being sad, “does that mean I don’t have to go to camp?”

“What? To camp? I thought you just wanted to ditch school”

“It’s summer break, Dad”

“It is?”

“Yeah, since like a week”

"Then why were you up so early last week?"

"I like being up early, then I can spend the whole day doing what I want"

"Playing chess?"

"Pretty much."

“But why are you pretending to be sick?”

“Cause you and Mom forced me to sign up for summer camp and I don’t wanna go!”

“We did?”

“Mom said you two agreed on it and that it’d be good for my social skills, blah blah blah”

Marvin sighed, rubbing his temple, “Yes, no, no, we agreed on it, I remember” he lied. “Remind me what camp it was again?”

“Baseball camp, at the Jewish Center. Today’s the first day.”

“Baseball camp at the Jewish Center,” Marvin repeated. “Well, there’s an oxymoron for you,” he said, proud to be the father of a fourth grader, who actually understood his joke.

I mean, Jason didn't laugh at it.

But he understood it.

Probably.

Sooo yeah.

“It’s the only day camp and the other options required driving somewhere super boring in a super old bus for a super long time only to be super bored and stuck with super idiots for weeks!” Jason explained instead.

“Sounds super annoying,” Marvin chuckled.

“It is. So I don’t have to go?”

“I don’t know,” Marvin said, looking over at his son. “Maybe it’ll be fun..?” he tried, although he already knew that the words baseball and summer camp were pretty much a death sentence for the kid. Jason scoffed, crossing his arms, and Marvin nodded absently, “Did we pay for it already?”

“Yes…”

“Well, then you’re going.”

“But Dad!”

“Sorry,” Marvin shrugged, standing up again. “I have to get ready for work now.”

“But if I have to go to the camp you have to drive me there and sign me in and do the introductory meeting and stuff!” Jason argued. 

Smart kid. 

He knew Marvin would not even dream about missing one minute of work for these kinds of things, those were Trina’s job. But of course, she wasn’t there.

“Whatever, just go get ready” he gave in.

“I hate this!” Jason exclaimed, turning around and running upstairs.

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” Marvin sighed.

-

Driving in a car with a frustrated ten-year-old is not a happy affair.

Jason sat turned away from Marvin, staring out of the window. He was munching on a cheap breakfast burrito and a Gatorade that Marvin had bought him from the gas station, looking as if it was his last meal before his inevitable execution. 

Marvin didn’t even try to talk or lighten the mood. 

His mind was still on yesterday night. 

He had taken a long shower, for the first time seeing the bruises and marks that it had left behind on his body. His upper thigh sported a big blue and red bruise, his shins and forearms were scratched up and bloody and his right eye was now not only underlined by dark bags, but also by a deep dark red bruise. 

If this really was what people did in Greenwich village, he most certainly didn’t belong there, after all, no matter how much of a push-over he was.

He was firm with Jason this time, though, driving him to camp and all. 

Though he had to admit, he did it mostly just so that Trina wouldn’t blame him for being a horrible father and so that he had something to throw in her face later. 

But still.

They got out of the car when they reached the Jewish Center, Marvin leading Jason inside. 

“Let’s get this over with, I have to get to work,” he said, as they walked through the door, entering the lobby. The receptionist lead them to another room, where other parents and their kids around Jason’s age were already lined up while a person in front of the queue was apparently talking to the parents, ticking their kids off his list and taking notes. 

Marvin sighed, glancing down at his wrist watch every twenty seconds, eyeing the other people there. 

“Seems like baseball camp won’t be the most academically challenging experience, after all,” he told Jason, as he saw a kid who was trying to shove a whole baseball into his mouth.

“Yeah, it'll suck. The best choice would have been you letting me stay at home, so I can study and play chess, but apparently no one cares,” Jason answered, glaring up at Marvin.

“I’m not the bad guy here, your mom’s the one who wants you to have a social life!”

“I have a social life already! As if I am going to find friends here!” Jason replied, gesticulating to another kid who was continually hitting his brother on the arm, the mother just watching the spectacle in exhausted surrender.

“I don’t know, Jason! Just be a kid, just -I don’t know- do kid things! Play outside, play hopscotch, draw with chalk, do finger painting, …-”

“I’m not five! All of these things suck, they are for babies!”

“Listen, we are paying a lot of money for this camp. All we want is for you to have fun during your summer holidays, is that really asking too much of you?”

“You don’t even know how much we’re paying, you didn’t even know I was supposed to come here until thirty minutes ago!”

“I’m still paying for this, aren’t I?!”

“You don’t want me to have fun, you just want me out of the house all day so you can fight more without me hearing it! You don’t care what I want, you just want me to do what you want from me!”

“Uhm… name please” Someone interrupted them, Marvin looking away from Jason to find that not only was everybody looking at them, but they were also at the front of the line now. 

Even the kid who had tried to fit a baseball in his mouth was looking and pointing at them. 

“This is Jason,” Marvin tried to carry on, looking back at the person who was ticking off the list. 

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Although his vision had been blurry and all he wanted was to forget yesterday night, he would still always recognize this face.

It was the blonde guy from yesterday.

The guy who found him on the floor and gave him the handkerchief.

The guy who he yelled at and had called a freak.

What had been his name again?

The name on the handkerchief?

“Hiya Jason, I’m Whizzer. Whizzer Brown, your camp counsellor” The man said, ticking Jason’s name off the list.

“Hi.” Jason mumbled, looking at the floor. Marvin wished he could just do the same. Just look down at the floor and act all moody and grumpy, but sadly he was the adult in this situation.

“And you are Jason’s…?” Whizzer asked, this time looking directly at Marvin. 

“I’m his father. Marvin.”

In the building yesterday it had been very dark and gloomy and only now was Marvin able to really make out Whizzer’s features and in the light he looked almost unreal. 

He had dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and surreally white teeth. He was wearing a light green button-up and he looked damn good. Even Marvin had to admit that. 

It was just a fact, honestly.

Every man and woman would have said so! 

“Does he have any allergies or has to take any medicine?” Whizzer asked, his brown eyes piercing into Marvin’s soul.

“Allergies? Uh… are you allergic to anything, Jason?”

“Your face.”

“Jason.”

“This life.”

“I’m warning you.”

“This stupid camp.”

“I’m going to take away your chess set”

“Bees…”

“Oh yeah, he’s allergic to bees”

“Okay,” Whizzer said and scribbled something down on his note pad. 

Marvin asked himself if he even recognized him. 

Maybe he hadn’t really seen him that night and didn’t even know who he was. 

Plus, he was not the only one who was going to be ashamed of the whole thing, after all they had met in the heart of the homosexual community. 

Not that Marvin was a homosexual. 

Maybe Whizzer was, though. 

Marvin didn’t know why that made him smile.

“Alright, come on, Jason. Kids, follow me. We’re going to the baseball field now and get to know each other, play some games and test out your skills a little bit” Whizzer announced, with a warm smile. “The parents can go now, just remember to pick your kids up at five o’clock, this afternoon.” 

Marvin ruffled the disgruntled Jason’s hair up a little, still not able to stop smiling, for some reason. “Bye, buddy,” he said, Jason simply turning around and walking away.

“Kids, huh?” he tried, looking at Whizzer, shrugging his shoulders.

“I guess.” Whizzer answered shortly and his smile had vanished from his face as he looked back at Marvin.

“Well, see you later then. It was nice to meet you!” Marvin tried again, still clinging to the hope that Whizzer didn’t remember him, that he didn’t hate him.

“Really? Because I thought I was too much of a freak for you?” Whizzer snapped, before turning around, putting a smile back on as he walked off with the group of children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, y'all!  
> If you could leave a comment on how you like the fanfic so far, it'd mean the world to me.  
> Love you, bye!


	4. Why Don't You Feel Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this was normal.  
> Maybe this was just how a normal human body reacted to these pictures.  
> Still, he knew he had never felt this way before.  
> Not with the porn magazines he had found in his father’s shed, when he was thirteen.  
> Not with his wife.  
> He flipped to page 14.  
> His hand wandered to his thighs, unbuckling his belt, sliding under the waistband of his boxers.  
> He knew it was wrong.

Whizzer.

Whizzer Brown.

What an enchanting name.

A really nice name, if you thought about it.

It had a ring to it.

A special kind of ring.

A kind of weird ring.

Who would name their kid Whizzer?

Probably some hippie parents.

No wonder the kid seemed to hang out in Greenwich village.

Whizzer Brown.

Marvin simply couldn’t get the name out of his head, couldn’t concentrate on the work on his desk.

It was weird to think that at this very moment, Whizzer was also doing something. 

That he was just existing somewhere. 

It seemed like they were worlds apart.

They didn’t even know each other and, in fact, Marvin should actually probably hope he’d never have to see him again, but he still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

That man had seen him in his most pitiful way ever, he could tell the story of that night to everyone and make Marvin the laughing stock for the next couple years. 

Hell, he could even be telling the story to Marvin’s son right this second and ruin his entire life.

And why wouldn’t he? 

He hated Marvin.

He just had to.

Who could blame him?

He had been an arsehole. 

A rude fucking arsehole.

“Woah! Mister Marvin how’d you get that black eye?” Chad, the famous intern number 1, we all know and…well, tolerate , interrupted his daydreaming.

“My name is not Mr. Marvin” Marvin informed him for what felt like – and probably actually was- the thousandth time. 

“I got into a bit of an argument last night” he said then, hoping it sounded mysterious and cool at the same time.

“What? No way! That’s cool” Chad said, giving him the hoped-for effect. “What was it about?”

“It was about an intern asking too many unimportant question and neglecting his work”

“Really?”

“No, not really! What is wrong with y– I was just making a jok– Never mind, Chad.” Marvin mumbled, getting up from his desk. “Get back to…whatever you do here. I’m just going to…– “ he sighed, but waved it off, as he stood up from his desk and strolled away. 

There’s only so much stupidity one can take in a day.

Marvin walked aimlessly around the office, to the file cabinet, to the water dispenser, out of the door to the hallway, allowing himself to lost in his thoughts again.

So…

Whizzer Brown, huh?

The name crossed his mind again.

Not that he ever seemed to stop thinking about him.

Thinking about Whizzer seemed like a tame hobby by now. 

A place to go to, when everybody around Marvin was just an absolute idiot. 

Whizzer Brown.

It didn’t really sound Jewish at all, but Marvin guessed he had to be, working at the Jewish Center and all.

Jewish, working with children, tall, blonde hair, brown eyes, he must get all the ladies in a heart-beat.

Then again, maybe, possibly, he didn’t want the ladies.

But that thought was ridiculous.

Totally ridiculous.

As if!

As if a man like Whizzer was a homosex-

Marvin exhaled sharply, as he hit his knee on a metallic trash can.

He looked down at the perpetrator, a bright pink note sticking to it.

“For Sanitary Disposal Only,” it read. “Please deposit all feminine hygiene products in the container provided.”

Uhh..okay?

That was weird.

Why the fuck was a container like this in the office space. 

Those belonged in the ladies’ rooms.

He looked around.

Fucking hell.

There is no easy way of saying this.

He was in the ladies’ restrooms.

Apparently, he had wandered there by accident.

Why he had subconsciously walked into the ladies' one, he didn’t know.

And he really, really did not want to explore that question on what was apparently going on in his brain: If he was either the biggest creep or the biggest nancy ever.

He looked around. 

After all, it is not every day that one finds oneself in the bathroom of another sex.

Just like the girl’s locker-room, it had always been a place of mystery. 

Not really for Marvin, if he was honest, he had never really cared much.

But still.

However, even for Marvin, this was a let-down.

It looked exactly like the men’s room! 

The tiles on the walls and on the floor were still the same, just the stalls in a different spots and the urinals gone entirely. 

The only thing of mystery was a big white box mounted on one of the walls.

What could it be?

It looked a bit like a candy dispenser.

Did they get fucking free candy in here?

What the fuck?

He stepped closer.

“Naturelle Pads” it said next to “Playtex Tampons”, with two little buttons and a sign that read 25 cents.

Ah.

Cool.

How very mysterious.

Marvin stepped away, disappointedly. 

He turned to the mirror, staring at his reflection. 

He tried moving his lips into a smile and shrugging.

He tried making his lips into a straight line and waving his hand dismissingly.

All of this in the quest of trying to figure out which look on his face would best say: “Oops, that was a total mistake! I didn’t go in there on purpose, but also not because I was so lost in my day-dreams! This was totally because I was so focused on work.”

Nothing did.

He was trying to laugh and shake his head at himself in a casual, nonchalant way, as he heard the door open.

For a lack of options, he shuffled into the nearest stall, slamming the door shut after himself, peeking through the gap between the door and its hinges. 

Two women entered the room (I mean, no surprise there), one of which he knew – her name was Andrea, not that that matters, but whatever – and another women, whose name he didn’t know but would in a couple of seconds.

“Oh, you are filthy, Judy! Put that away!” he heard Andrea say. The woman next to Andrea – Judy (see?) – had a gotten a magazine out of her handbag, showing it to Andrea. 

“It’s not filthy, it’s art,” Judy claimed, a grin on her face, “George gave it to me this morning, can you believe that?”

“Why would he even do that?” Andrea asked, her gaze on the mirror now, as she reapplied her lipstick. 

“Not everyone’s as uptight as you guys,” Judy shrugged, still flipping through the magazine. “He just wants me to live a little, while he’s gone on that business trip!” 

“With pictures of other men?”

“Yes, why not? They’re just pictures, he gets the real thing”

“I guess,” Andrea shrugged, putting her lipstick back into her bag. “Gimme that,” she smiled then, fetching it out of Judy’s hand and flipping through it. “Well, they are good-looking, I’ll give you that”

“Good-looking? They’re fucking hot, that’s what they are”

“Do these men even exist in real life?”

“Not in this office, that’s for damn sure!”

They both laughed.

Marvin rolled his eyes.

He pushed his head closer against the door, trying to see the magazine as well, but from the distance, he could only make out faint outlines of man’s bodies and the nude color of their skin. 

He tilted his head a little. Were they really naked? He pressed his face closer to the door, his feet suddenly loosing grip against the tiles and he slipped back, his knees hitting the floor in a loud bang.

Apparently, Andrea was startled by the noise, because he heard her shriek and then an “Oh fuck, sorry!”

Marvin, wanting desperately for them not discover him and earn the reputation of the guy creeping in women’s bathrooms, quickly got on his feet again, climbing on the toilet seat so the stall would seem empty.

“What was that?” Andrea asked, but it didn’t sound like Judy cared much. “Probably just someone outside, there’s no one here,” she answered. “Oh no, it’s ruined, look!” She added.

“I’m so sorry, Judy! I just tripped and it fell into the sink!”

Judy sighed deeply, pausing for a moment, “its fine!” she said then and sounded like she meant it. 

“That just means I get to watch you going to the store, look the cashier in the eye and buy me a new one!” she added then.

“Oh no…”

“Come on! Oh, this will be fun!” Judy laughed and Marvin could hear the door close after them.

He breathed out.

He was fine.

It was fine.

Slowly, he climbed off the toilet seat, got out of the stall, walking to the door again, but stopped at the sink.

The magazine was still laying there. 

It had apparently fallen into the sink and was now soaked in water.

Curiously, he picked it up.

Surely there’d be no harm in taking a little peek inside and see what all the hustle was about. 

"Playgirl", it said in bold pink letters on the front of it. 

The cover also featured the picture of a shirtless man in a cowboy hat, smugly looking at the camera and headlines such as “America’s Sexiest Cowboys go Bareback! Four Horsemen Ready for Some Wild West Action”, “Hollywood’s Hottest Wrangling Men” and an exclusive interview with Todd Rundgren, whoever the fuck that was. 

Marvin flipped the pages, finding more pictures of men – thankfully this time without the ridiculous hat – with less clothes on and mostly laying on different surfaces, ranging from couch to marble floor.

He had to take another deep breath, this time for completely different reasons than before, his hands, without realizing it, clinging to the still wet and crumbled up paper. 

He had to act.

Now.

Before someone else would enter the restrooms.

Without thinking, he stuffed it in the front of his pants, taking another deep breath before walking outside. He had prepared for loud laughter and finger pointing, but nobody even bat an eye at him, as he made his way back to his desk, the clammy magazine rubbing against his leg. 

He felt like somebody needed to call him out, to yell at him.

But nobody did. 

Nobody had noticed.

Nobody paid attention.

Nobody judged him.

Nobody thought he was a pervert.

Nobody but himself.

-

The next few hours felt like they passed in a daze. While the magazine was slowly drying, Marvin’s eyes went to the clock every few seconds, counting every minute until he could go home. 

It was four thirty when he gathered his things already, mumbling a “I have to get my kid from camp,” before hurrying outside.

Every single minute he spend in his car was excruciating. 

They went on and on and on and on, like chewing-gum they stretched out to their very last bits, like a bad analogy trying to explain something very simple in too much detail, like a long, long, long run on sentence with way too many adjectives.

When he finally reached his house, he parked his car in the driveway, fiddling with his keys until he got the door open.

He went upstairs into the bedroom, closing the door after himself.

Silence, at last.

And suddenly, he didn’t really know what he had even hurried home for. 

He sat down on the bed, pulling the magazine back out.

It was dry now, the pages still terribly wrinkly and some colors smudged and blending together. He started flipping through the pages again, this time taking his time and thoroughly looking at each one.

This was wrong.

This was disgusting.

Why was he even doing that?

Why did he take it with him?

He was sick.

He was disgusting, looking at these pictures of naked men.

But he couldn’t stop.

He just couldn’t.

When he had reached the end of the magazine, he started over again.

He looked through it, again and again and again.

Looking at the headlines.

At the articles.

At the pictures.

He tried to tell himself that he did it for research purposes.

To find out what women were thinking, what they wanted.

But these thoughts were overpowered by other ones.

Sick ones.

He felt it stirring inside of him.

Maybe this was normal.

Maybe this was just how a normal human body reacted to these pictures.

Still, he knew he had never felt this way before.

Not really.

Not with swimsuit models.

Not with the porn magazines he had found in his father’s shed, when he was thirteen.

Not with his wife.

He flipped to page 14.

A picture of a tall, blonde, brown-eyed man, lying on a bed of white roses.

His hand wandered to his thighs, unbuckling his belt, sliding under the waistband of his boxers.

He knew it was wrong.

But for the first time in years, he felt at least a little bit alive.

The phone rang five times.

Then it stopped.

Then it rang another five times.

He didn’t pick up, moving his hand faster, not willing to give up the moment that he had right now. 

If he was doing something so insanely wrong, he might as well finish it.

He finished by the time the phone stopped ringing for the third time, the little red answering machine light blinking wildly. 

Still panting, Marvin sank back into the sheets, reaching over to press the button to play the message.

“Hello, this is Whizzer Brown from the Jewish Center Baseball Camp speaking. The camp ended at 5o’clock. That was an hour ago. Please fucking pick up your kid?”

-

Every other car on the road, every pedestrian, every sign distracted Marvin. At every little distraction, his eyes just starting darting around as if he was being chased. 

He did feel like he was being chased. 

Like he would really deserve being chased, being locked up, being punished.

He knew what he had done was wrong.

He could still smell the sharp scent of hand sanitizer.

He could still see himself shoving the magazine under the mattress.

He could still feel himself in a frenzy, changing the sheets.

He could still feel the worry deep inside of his bones, because after stuffing the old ones into the washing machine, he had no idea how to turn it on.

And on top of that he had completely forgotten his kid.

And now Whizzer hated him even more.

And everybody thought he was incapable of doing anything at all.

And maybe he really was.

Apparently he really was.

He couldn’t even turn on a fucking washing machine!

Just a stupid bastard.

A sick, stupid bastard.

Getting off to pictures of other men.

He looked down at his hand on the steering wheel, at his wedding band, his fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, trying to keep it still.

He thought about crashing it.

He thought about just driving into one of these signs he saw.

Into one of these buildings.

But he didn’t.

Jason was waiting for him.

So he didn’t.

When he finally reached the Jewish Center, he found a parking spot, breathing some shaky breaths of relief, as he parked the car. 

Jason and Whizzer were sitting on the steps in front of it, chatting away. The kid was now also wearing a camp T-shirt and seemed pretty happy, laughing and gesturing around like he would never with Marvin. 

As Marvin stepped closer, Whizzer spotted him, nudging Jason, who turned around, instantly putting his moody-tween-face back on. 

“Hey Jason, I’m so sorry, it was just-“

“Work?! Yeah, I figured.” Jason said coldly, crossing his arms.

“Yeah…” Marvin lied, grateful for the excuse. 

“Sorry, Whizzer,” he tried then.

The man looked back at him with an undetermined face, as if he had been angry for a while but that had vanished at the pitiful sight of Marvin’s appearance. 

Finally, after an excruciating amount of time, he shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said, “Jason and I had a lot of fun, actually.”

Marvin tried to put on a polite smile, but couldn’t bring himself to, nodding slightly. 

“I wanna go play chess now, I thought about so many new moves! Bye Whizzer! Dad, come on, let’s go!” Jason whined, walking over to the car already.

“I’m coming,” Marvin said, but didn’t move.

“Are you…alright?” Whizzer finally asked, after a long silence of watching Jason walk off.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Marvin shrugged. “Uh, listen. By the way, I’m sorry about – you know- that night. I shouldn’t have said that shit…”

“Yes, you shouldn’t” Whizzer answered, not even pretending not to know what Marvin was talking about.

“I still have this” Marvin realized then, reaching into his pocket and pulling the handkerchief out. 

“Oh fuck,” he hesitated, as he saw the blood and snot that was still on it. 

“You could have at least washed it!” Whizzer suddenly laughed out loud, snatching it from Marvin and inspecting it

“I…I don’t know how the washing machine works” Marvin brought out, making Whizzer laugh even harder. 

Somehow, Marvin found that he was smiling with him.

“You are a mysterious man, Marvin” Whizzer grinned, pocketing his handkerchief.

“I’m really not,” Marvin answered.

“You are. I bet you have a Batcave at home or something”

“Excuse me?”

“Like in Batman? Jesus, I work too much with kids... But you know? Because you also roam the streets at night and get beat up?”

“What is a Batman?”

“Oh God, you have a lot to learn”

“You should teach me”

“Well, maybe I will,” Whizzer answered.

Marvin blushed, staring down at the ground, but he was still smiling.

“But not today,” he heard Whizzer laugh. “You cost me enough of my precious time today. See you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Marvin said, watching Whizzer shoulder his backpack and wander off, before he made his own way back to his car.

Maybe life could be alright, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Today are the Tony Awards, so that's cool. Still not over Falsettos getting friggin robbed, but we'll see what happens. Who you rooting for this year?
> 
> Oh, by the way, that "Playgirl" edition I described is real. I googled "Playgirl 1970s" and this was the result, a naked guy in a cowboy hat on the cover and articles about "America’s Sexiest Cowboys go Bareback!". 
> 
> I love the internet.


	5. Love is Often Boring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She laughed, leaning back against the headboard with an almost reminiscent smile. 
> 
> She looked different for a second.
> 
> Then, she stopped smiling and didn’t look different anymore.
> 
> “How was your day?” Trina asked.
> 
> “Do you want to have sex?” Marvin asked.

“And then Whizzer played this game with us and chased us around and it was basically like playing tag, but not tag, because he had to catch us all and when he caught us we had to catch the other people too and it was so cool, he can run really, really, really fast and later he pitched a ball and it flew over the fence because he hit it so hard and before that he showed us how to throw a curve ball and…“

Marvin watched Jason with a smile, eating another fork full of linguine. 

The radio silence between them had lasted approximately 0.2 seconds, after Marvin had entered the car again. From there on, Jason had seemed to have forgotten all about his grudge and just couldn’t stop talking about Whizzer Brown. 

Even now, as they sat in the tiny Italian restaurant, eating their dinner there, since Marvin had absolutely no idea how to cook anything,

I mean, he could go home and try to make something.

But, to be honest, he really couldn’t be bothered.

Jason didn’t seem to mind, barely having touched his food yet, not able to stop blabbering.

“And he told me that tomorrow he is gonna teach us how to catch every single ball and he said that we were all really good already, but I think he lied because some kids really suck”

“Yeah, I can imagine. What about the other kids? Have you made friends with any of them?”

“Nah, they’re boring. I told Whizzer that I’d teach him chess and he seemed to be really excited! He said he knew how to play it a little already, but not really”

Marvin nodded, still smiling.

It was nice to hear about Whizzer.

Nice to be able to have a reason to think about Whizzer.

Nice to know that other people were as fascinated by him like he was.

“Do you know where he’s from? Is he Jewish?”

“Half Jewish!”

“Well, he really is something, isn’t he?” Marvin couldn’t help but say, Jason nodding enthusiastically, while stuffing a piece of pizza in his mouth.

“Hmh! Dad, can I have a big sundae after this?”

“Sure, son, whatever you want. So, what else did Whizzer do today?”

-

Although it was summer, it was pitch dark outside, when they drove back home.

Marvin looked over at his son with a smile on his face, Jason sitting in the passenger’s seat, his head against the window, eyes closed, breathing steadily.

It was way past his bedtime already.

Well, to be honest, he didn't exactly know when Jason's bedtime was.

But he was sure it had to be after 11pm, so technically he must be right?

Then again, it was the boy's summer holidays.

But he still had to get up early for camp!

Marvin sighed.

Was he a bad parent for not knowing these kinds of things?

Trina would think so.

But she made up new rules all the time and changed others and it was just really hard to keep up, okay?!

If Trina would be with them she would be mad, he thought.

She was always mad at Marvin.

He was always mad that she was mad at him.

It was a vicious cycle, but hey, he wasn't the one to blame!

It was totally her fault so she should be the one breaking them out of it and just stop being mad at him all the time!

Yeah, she would definitely be mad.

Mad at him bringing their son home so late.

‘He needs his sleep’, she would say.

Or maybe she wouldn’t.

Maybe she would be glad that they had spent so much time together.

Maybe she would be happy Jason hadn’t just spent the whole day alone in his room.

Marvin didn’t know anymore.

He didn’t know what to expect from other people anymore.

How could he, when he didn’t even know what to expect from himself anymore. 

After he parked the car in the driveway, he walked around the car, opening the door on the passenger’s side. 

He looked at the sleeping Jason for a moment, before he decided to bent down, lifting the young boy out of the car. 

Marvin asked himself when it had been the last time he had picked up Jason. 

He didn’t know.

Four years ago? 

Five?

It didn’t matter much.

He had put him down one time and then just never picked him up again.

It wasn’t really a sad thought.

That is just what happens to every kid.

But it was kind of a sad thought, after all.

Thoughts don’t necessarily have to make sense.

Emotions don't have to make sense.

Actually, they never do.

Marvin had learnt that by now.

Although his body was still sore, Marvin was surprised at how easily he could carry Jason. He would add this to the list of things pushing his ego and his fragile masculinity, but the truth was that the scrawny ten-year-old had really no weight to him at all, his legs dangling down as Marvin carried him to the door. 

He struggled to unlock the door for a while, but finally pushed it open, carrying the kid upstairs.

Okay, this was harder than expected.

Marvin bit his lip as he climbed the steps, finally reaching the top, pushing open Jason’s door, which is easily recognizable by the big “KEEP OUT” sign, written in big letters in a clumsy handwriting on the paper torn out of a notebook. 

He made his way through books and toys thrown on the floor, laying Jason down on the unmade bed.

Why there were so many things on the ground when his son only spend all his time playing chess, he didn't know.

He bit his lip as he stepped on what felt like a pawn, kicking it under the bed as he took the boy’s shoes off and put a blanket over him.

He remembered how, when Jason had been a baby, he would sometimes sneak into this very room at night, checking if Jason was still breathing.

He would just come in and sit down next to the cot, just watching Jason breathe, until he would get up again and go back to bed.

He had never told Trina about this.

He didn’t know why.

He knew she would love this story.

Fatherly love and care and all that bullshit.

But he had never told her.

He had never told her because he was afraid she would ask him if he had done this to sneak away from her.

If he didn’t like sleeping next to her this much that he would willingly give up the few hours of rest that new parents got. 

That she would ask why this thing started weeks after Jason was born, when she had finally made a recovery and, after long months of a stressful pregnancy and then birth, had been ready again to be romantic. 

He didn't want her to ask these kind of things.

He didn't want to think of the answers.

He didn't want to think about any of this at all.

He walked back to the door, this time stepping more carefully.

He didn't want to step into a lego, because the last time he did he had to pay the babysitter 20 bucks for her to tell Trina Jason had learnt "the F Word" from her.

He walked through the hallway, past the photo frames on the wall, stopping, for the first time, to look at them. 

When you live in a house you soon get so used to your surroundings, you don’t even notice them anymore, they are just… there. 

You know?

Yeah, you know.

You’ve lived somewhere with pictures on the walls before, haven’t you?

Yeah, I thought so.

Marvin and Trina’s wedding picture.

A picture of a very young and very pregnant Trina.

A picture of Jason as a toddler, just frowning at the photographer who had tried to make him laugh, dangling a rubber duck in in front of his face.

A picture of him, Trina and Jason at Jason’s preschool “graduation” (what a terrible idea, by the way, as if toddlers deserved a ceremony for majoring in nap time and minoring in making crappy crafts).

This was his life.

Marvin’s whole life was displayed right there, on that wall.

Marvin stared at the pictures.

What the fuck was he doing, ruining everything?

He decided to throw away the magazine he had stashed under the mattress.

He decided to forget about Whizzer Brown.

As Marvin finally opened his bedroom door, he nearly jumped. 

It was Trina. 

Trina sitting on their bed.

Trina dressed in her nightgown.

Trina looking up from her book.

“Oh, hello Marvin!”

“Hey, Trina. I uh, I went out with Jason, sorry. I didn’t know you’d be home yet”

“Of course I’m home, where else would I be?”

He sighed. 

This game again, then. 

Pretending like nothing had ever happened.

Until the next fight, at least.

“Of course,” he agreed, shrugging his shoulders and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Also…you know my mom,” Trina added with a little reconciling smile, actually succeeding in making Marvin grin. 

“Yeah, I do indeed,” he sighed, shaking his head at the memories. “You remember when she screamed at me at Thanksgiving because I accidentally switched two layers of her stupid fifteen layer salad?”

Trina laughed. “Oh god, yes. And when she took two hours to explain to me why it means that Jason’s the devil because he has curly hair”

“Yeah, the antichrist, she said. She herself is one, if you ask me”

“Marvin!” Trina scolded, but still laughed, giving him a nudge 

“She still can’t remember my name! It’s been eleven years and she still calls me Martin”

She laughed, leaning back against the headboard with an almost reminiscent smile. 

She looked different for a second.

Then, she stopped smiling and didn’t look different anymore.

“How was your day?” Trina asked.

“Do you want to have sex?” Marvin asked.

They exchanged a long look, before Trina laughed again, nodding, pulling him closer by his collar. He gave in, letting her pull his face to hers, theirs lips pressed together again. 

Maybe he could actually make this work.

Maybe he could want this.

Yes, he could want this!

It’s all about attitude, really.

Fake it till you make it, am I right?

He could do this!

He could definitely do this!

Fix this whole thing, fix his family and fix his other urges.

He could want this.

He could want her.

I mean, she wanted him!

Trina was unbuttoning his shirt, her hands shaking with anticipation and desire.

His own were calm and steady.

He unbuttoned his own shirt.

And then his pants.

She took off her nightgown.

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time they had done this.

It had probably been months.

He didn’t even know.

He had never really cared.

He usually just pretended to be too tired or too annoyed. 

He didn’t know why. 

He knew he should want this.

He should want this so bad.

He that knew from movies.

He knew from books.

He knew from other men’s conversations.

Men wanted to have sex with women.

Like…all the time.

So why didn’t he?

Trina was on top of him now, kissing his neck.

It felt somewhat nice, but he didn’t care much about it.

He didn’t care much about anything, really.

She pressed his hand against her chest.

He didn’t like that.

He didn’t want that.

He looked down at their bodies and saw her glance down as well.

There was nothing.

No reaction.

To put it bluntly, he wasn’t getting hard.

“Sorry…” he mumbled and she gave him a smile, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, we can fix that!” she told him, kissing her way down his body again.

Could they?

Could they really?

He wanted them both to.

He really, really did.

He looked at the ceiling, still feeling her lips on his body and, for a brief moment, the men from the magazines crossed his mind, then Whizzer Brown’s face flashed in front of his eyes. 

He imagined what it’d be like – 

What it’d feel like when Whizzer would – 

How he’d react it Whizzer was – 

At the thought he felt a twitch inside of him, a sudden urge, a slight pleasure. 

He quickly looked back down. 

It was still Trina. 

The feeling went away again. 

“I’m sorry, Trina, I don’t think it’s going to… – I am just really tired today and my head hurts and work is really stressful and…” he said but it didn’t come out right, it was almost a whisper.

She sat up, but didn’t react for such a long time that he already prepared to repeat himself, until he could see her nod slightly. 

“I’m going to take a shower…” she answered, getting up from the bed, walking over to the bathroom.

This was Marvin’s life.

He turned around, pulling the blanket over his body, staring at the wall. In the next room, he heard the shower being turned on. 

He knew Trina was crying. 

He knew he should go to her. 

He knew he should tell her that it was not about her, that it was not about her not being attractive or about him having an affair with another woman, but that it was about him. Like everything in their lives it was about him and his fucking stupid problems. 

He felt empty inside.

This was his life.

And apparently he couldn’t fix it.

Couldn’t want it, couldn’t enjoy it.

Living with this emptiness every single day.

That was okay.

It had been okay for a long time.

There had once been a certain kind of happiness in his life.

In the life of just a surburban dad.

In the life that now felt as fake as any suburban dad on one of Trina's TV shows.

But he used to be happy.

Somewhat happy.

With weddings and birthdays and graduations and first steps.

He still loved Jason!

He still kinda liked his job.

He could still stand Trina.

But now it was different.

Now it was more complicated, as if suddenly he had realised, there were different kinds of happiness.

And Marvin's version of life just wasn't enough.

It wasn't anything.

It felt like a sham.

Now he had gotten a glimpse at something else.

It felt like was living the perfect life, but it was the perfect life for somebody else.

He had everything, but he wanted none of it.

He had never wanted any of it.

Life just happens.

Go to school, go to college, marry, buy a house, have a kid.

Life had just always happened to him and he had never once asked himself: Do I want this?

What if he didn't want this?

Would that be okay? 

Maybe this was a midlife crisis!

Yeah! Yeah, that could be it!

Just a normal midlife crisis.

Probably.

Maybe he should just get a motorbike.

He didn't want one, though.

What if he wanted something else but that something else was so, so wrong.

Isn't everything that makes a person happy and doesn't harm themselves of others okay?

But it did harm others.

And it did harm himself.

He didn’t know.

Didn't know what to do anymore.

How to live like this anymore.

But also not how to not live like this.

He closed his eyes, hoping that maybe at least in his dreams he would be able to escape this question.

To be able to just dream without being questioned or judged.

To be able to not be in control of his thoughts.

To lose control over the things he saw.

The things he felt.

The things he liked to see and feel.

Or at least pretend not to be.

Maybe, just maybe, to dream of Whizzer Brown.


	6. I Would Kill for That Thrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey Dad, can I – why are you guys playing Go Fish?” Jason asked, interrupting them.  
> “We are playing Poker, not Go Fi–“ Marvin stared at the cards.  
> “Fuck, we are playing Go Fish” he sighed, coming to the realization. He turned to Whizzer, who couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.  
> So much for impressing Whizzer with his masculine nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this is a long one and it kiiiinda has a plot too! I know, I can't believe it either

Marvin couldn’t hold up his promise to Whizzer, to see him the next day. 

Or the day after that.

Or any other day.

Now that Trina was back, everything was back to the way it used to be. 

To the way it had always been.

He went to work and Trina dropped Jason off at camp and picked him up again. 

It was like nothing had ever changed.

Like nothing inside of himself had ever awoken. 

He had hoped that through this it’d just disappear again.

It didn’t.

“How’s camp going?” Marvin asked Jason, like he did every evening, when they were sat at the dinner table together. 

“It’s fine,” Jason answered, like every evening.

Marvin looked at his plate, trying desperately not to seem too nosy or curious. 

Like every evening. 

“And…what did you do today?” he asked, as he couldn’t stand it anymore, hoping that it’d come off like an interested father and not a desperate soul, grasping at every little information about Whizzer Brown, he could get.

“Same as every day, really. We played baseball and stuff… it’s really not that fascinating, Dad,” Jason answered, to his disappointment. “Oh! Oh! Something really funny happened though!” he said then, making Marvin smile.

“What happened?”

“Billy bet Josie that he could stick a whole bag of jelly beans up his nose!”

“Oh,” Marvin mumbled, not able to mask his disappointment, but Jason didn’t even notice.

“Jason, that can be very dangerous!” Trina intersected. “I don’t want you to participate in these kinds of things, you understand me? You might end up having to go to the ER and it may do some irreparable damage to your nose”

“Plus, all the jelly beans are ruined now, what a waste…” Marvin mumbled, making her roll her eyes

“Yeah, yeah I know, I won’t! I wasn’t the one doing it in the first place!” Jason sighed with the exhaustion specially reserved for children and teenagers who only wanted to tell their parents a funny story, but got a long and tiring lecture about life out of it. 

“Anyway, so he put the whole bag up his nose and Josie gave him the ten dollars. Then, he tried sneezing them out but he couldn’t and then we had to get Whizzer and he got them”

“Whizzer?” Marvin asked, suddenly very, very interested in the story. “What did he do?”

“Just basically examined his nose and stuff. It was dis-gus-ting!” Jason grinned, shaking his head. 

“Oh, by the way, you have to sign this!” he remembered, reaching under the table, pulling a very wrinkled piece of paper out of his backpack.

“Jason! I’ve told you a million times to put your stuff in the folder I bought you,” Trina sighed, Jason shrugging in response, handing Marvin the note.

“It even has little chess pieces and everything on it! I just don’t know why you don’t want to use it!” Trina went on.

“I do like it, Mom! I just was in a hurry!” Jason defended himself. 

Meanwhile, Marvin took the note, looking it over. “Is this so that I make sure I tell you not to put jelly beans in your nose?” he asked and Jason shook his head.

“It’s that you allow me to go on a trip. We want to drive to Boston to see the Mets play against the Red Sox”

“How very fascinating...” Marvin sighed. 

Name of the child.

Birth date.

Sign here to give permission to go on the trip.

Transfer money to…

Fill this out, if you want to come on the trip and be a guardian: - 

Marvin’s eyes stopped, glued to the last paragraph.

Be a guardian.

Not even in his wildest dreams would he imagine voluntarily joining his kid on a camp trip. 

That’s what he paid the camp for, for heaven’s sake!

Especially not on a trip to a baseball game in Boston.

He hated baseball.

He really did.

But there was something.

Something on the paper. 

Next to the standard “Do you want to be a guardian on this trip?” written by the type writer someone had added another little question mark in blue ink with a little smiley face drawn next to it. 

“Jason, did you do that?” Marvin asked, pointing at the little note.

“No, that was Whizzer. He wanted to ask if you’d want to be a guardian, because, until now, only moms have volunteered. Don’t worry, I have already told him you wouldn’t want do that. Like, at all.”

“Why would you do that? And why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to save you the trouble of coming up with an excuse not to go, I know you hate baseball - and camps in general - and you need to work”

“I do not! You know what? I’ll go!”

“You will?” Trina asked.

“What? Really?” Jason asked.

‘Will I really?’, Marvin asked himself, but tried not to think about it too much.

“Yeah,” he answered, ticking the little box marked YES, immediately regretting his decision.

-

“You know you don’t have to prove anything to Jason or to me with going on this trip, right?” Trina asked Marvin, as they were standing in front of the bus that was surrounded with preteens and their parents saying their goodbyes. 

“We can still say that there’s been an emergency at the office and they need you there,” she offered, glancing over at Jason. He was standing a little off, next to a group of kids, not exactly chatting with them or making any friends, but almost blending in.

“I’m fine, Trina, I want to do this!” Marvin sighed. “For Jason, of course,” he added, unnecessarily, trying not to glance over at Whizzer, who was bustling around between the parents and children.

Marvin hadn’t seen the other man in two weeks and four days.

He could still exactly remember his face.

You might say: yeah, of course he did! It’s not like you can’t recognize someone you haven’t seen in two weeks.

To which I would say, it’s been two weeks and four days - thank you very much - and he didn’t just recognize him: He exactly remembered what his face looked like.

If you would ask Marvin if someone he has known and worked with for nine years was wearing glasses, he wouldn’t know.

He would be like “duh! Of course!” and then “wait, do they?!” and then “I’m not sure” and then “no, I think”.

And they do wear glasses.

They do!

How could he forget that?!

He has worked with them for nine years!

And that’s just the superficial stuff, don’t get me started on knowing another person’s eye color.

Whizzer Brown’s eyes were brown.

Marvin knew that.

And Whizzer Brown wasn’t wearing glasses.

He definitely knew that.

Well, to be fair, he was wearing sunglasses right now.

But we can all agree that that doesn’t count.

Whizzer was also wearing his usual blue camp counsellor T-shirt, some dangerously tight white shorts and a whistle around his neck.

Just as Marvin asked himself if he really needed a whistle or if it was just there to complete the look, he put it between his lips and blew it.

The razor-sharp noise shut up all the kids, turning around to look at him.

That's kinda cool, isn't it.

Marvin asked himself if he should get himself a whistle for all kinds of social situations.

Hm, probably wouldn’t have the same effect, though.

Some things are only appropriate in the right social setting.

Like those way too tight white shorts on Whizzer’s body.

“On the bus then, off we go!” Whizzer announced, nodding his head towards the door, now once again ticking off names on his list, as he watched the queue of kids enter the vehicle. 

“So, Jason, you want to sit next to me, or..?” Marvin asked, as Jason came back into his sight, but the boy already shook his head. 

“I’m gonna sit next to Josie,” he said, already walking past Whizzer into the bus.

So much for father-son time. 

He wasn’t sure why went on this trip again.

That was until it was his turn to go past Whizzer Brown. 

“Ah, Marvin, hello,” Whizzer chuckled, ticking his name off the list. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come, Jason was very…very, very, very sure you wouldn’t want to.”

“Well, miracles do happen,” Marvin answered, while following Whizzer to the back of the bus, where four seats were next to each other, two ladies already seated next to each other.

“This is Linda,” Whizzer explained, gesturing at the blonde woman with a bob cut and a pink cardigan.

“Hello, nice to meet you. I work in Human Resources,” Linda said and Marvin nodded.

“Yes, I can see that,” he mumbled. 

“Hm? Excuse me, I didn’t quite catch that?”

“Oh, I said nice to meet you too. I’m Marvin,” he corrected himself, adding an “I work in accounting?” after a moment of silence.

“Oh, accounting, how lovely! You must be good at math then?” She laughed a short ‘ha, ha.’ that wasn’t really a laugh, but more of a nicety that people from Human Resources always did to humanize themselves.

“Yeah, I guess, I mean I do a lot of-“

“I just told you that because many people who see me automatically assume I am some kind of soccer mom,” Linda went on after her laugh, as if Marvin hadn’t even said anything “or a house wife! But I am not! I work part time but still find time to care for my William. Many women these days can’t do either, really. It’s a shame.”

“My wife’s a housewife,” Marvin answered, shrugging.

“Oh, I did not mean to insult your wife at all! It’s just, you know what I mean. Some people just laze around at home all day. Not your wife, of course, I’m sure she is lovely! Just…other people. Not me, though. I could never do that! I just have to work, you know? I feel like it’s fun, really. I can’t just laze around all day, I really couldn’t.”

“Yes, uh sure,” Marvin said, looking over at Whizzer for help.

“Yeah, uhm, so this is Linda,” Whizzer concluded. 

“And this is Karen,” he said then, gesturing at the woman next to Linda, long brown hair and dressed in grey pants and a blue sweater. 

“She’s Josie’s mom” Whizzer went on to explain and Marvin chuckled. “My son just ditched me for your daughter,” he said, but she didn’t react.

Not a very talkative one, apparently.

He liked that.

He just wanted to talk to Whizzer, anyway.

“Take a seat,” Whizzer told him, mercifully dropping down next to Linda, so that Marvin got the quiet window seat.

“Thank you” Marvin mouthed at Whizzer, as Linda started talking again. 

“Whizzer, I was thinking. We really should replace the orange slices as snacks with celery sticks. There is way too much fruit sugar in orange slices, don’t you think?” She didn’t leave a pause for him to answer. “Now, I know, I know what you want to say. Why not carrot sticks? Well, many kids have allergies…” 

Whizzer grinned at Marvin, mouthing a “You owe me.”

-

Whatever your religion or your believes in general, a four-and-a-half-hour bus ride with twenty preteens is hell.

Literal hell.

By the second hour, Marvin had devised an elaborate plan on how to crack open a window and throw himself out of this deafening, stifling purgatory that called itself a coach bus. 

It didn’t help much that after about half an hour Whizzer had went to the children, laughing and playing cards. 

I mean, at least somebody was having fun. 

But Marvin had hoped that they would have had this fun together.

Instead he was stuck in hell in his seat in the back.

Karen was still wordlessly staring out of the window and Linda was reading – or more like, pretending to read – a book called The Science of Success, but she was really more so holding it up so high so that everybody could see what a sophisticated reader she was, rather than actually reading it. 

At least she had a book, though. 

It began to dawn on Marvin that he might should have brought something with him to pass the time, rather than rely on Whizzer to dazzle him for four and a half hours. 

He couldn’t help but feel a bit frustrated. 

Okay, maybe not just a bit.

Really frustrated.

Whizzer was the reason he had agreed to come on this trip and until now they hadn’t spoken two words to each other. Marvin breathed out, sinking back into his seat again, watching the younger man. 

Whizzer was undeniably great with children. 

He laughed at the right times, he made the right jokes at the right times, he knew what to say and how to say it. 

To be fair, he was probably brilliant with adults too. 

Funny and witty and kind and joyful and how a stray of his hair always dangled in front of his face, but he still looks perfect and it makes him look even more perfect because it’s like he doesn’t even care about his looks, but he is still groomed and nice-looking and how when he laughs he closes his eyes and his head falls back and he laughs with his whole body and you know he’s genuine and he still looks absolutely stunning.

Just…technically speaking, of course.

Every sane person would notice that.

Whizzer turned his head to look at Marvin, his perfect brown eyes catching the light in them, his mouth still in a big smile. Marvin tried to quickly look away, but failed, caught in the middle of staring, their eyes crossing. Whizzer’s smile just grew wider and he said something to the kids, before standing up and walking back to the back of the bus. 

“Hey, you know how to play Texas Hold’em? The kids think I’m ripping them off, they’re all terrible at Poker, it’s like their parents don’t even care for their general education anymore,” he said to Marvin.

“I…uhm-“ Marvin said, scrambling to gather his thoughts before able to switch his brain from staring at Whizzer to the rules of Poker. 

“Yeah, I know how to” he said then, although he really didn’t.

“You want to play?” Whizzer asked, sitting back down in his seat.

He was still looking at him.

Marvin didn’t know why he blushed.

“Mhm,” he agreed, knowing he was totally screwed. 

He had no idea how to play Poker, except some terms he had overheard some buff men sitting at poker tables in dim-lit bars say on TV shows like “Straight Flush” or some other shit.

Whizzer pulled out a stack of cards out of his backpack, chuckling as he found some other, multi-colored ones stuck inbetween. 

“You want Pete Falcone?” he asked Marvin, holding up a baseball card with some guy with brown curls hair in a striped baseball uniform on it. 

“Not really,” Marvin chuckled and Whizzer shrugged. 

“Maybe you’ll get him to sign it for you!” he told Marvin.

“Well in that case, suure!” Marvin said sarcastically.

“Take him, trust me,” Whizzer answered, handing the card over.

“Well, thanks”

“You’re welcome. Soo..what you wanna bet?” he asked then.

“I don’t know, can’t we just play for fun?”

“Oh, I never play for fun, I am here to win,” Whizzer joked, but looked at Marvin with a deadly serious face

“Winning is everything to me,” Marvin agreed, but he was actually serious. “You want to have Jason?”

-

They played for a while and Marvin was surprised of himself.

He was doing great! Somehow he seemed to be able to play this game he had never played before. 

He just watched Whizzer and figured it out by himself in the matter of seconds!

It was probably due to his manly nature, really. He wasn’t much different than the men on TV playing Poker and he was indeed really good at math. 

“Do you have any threes?” he asked Whizzer, who shook his head. 

“Poker,” he said and Marvin nodded, drawing a new card from the pile.

Marvin was really awesome at this!

Whizzer must be so impressed!

“Hey Dad, can I – why are you guys playing Go Fish?” Jason asked, interrupting them.

“We are playing Poker, not Go Fi–“ Marvin stared at the cards. 

“Fuck, we are playing Go Fish” he sighed, coming to the realization. He turned to Whizzer, who couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.

“It’s just… you started asking me for cards and then I thought we might as well do this, if you didn’t know how to play actual Poker” he answered in laughter.

So much for Marvin's natural masculine nature.

Marvin sighed, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, unable to be angry at the man whose face turned red, holding onto Marvin’s leg for support as he almost tumbled down his own seat in laughter.

“It’s really not that funny…” he informed Whizzer, but wished that this moment would never pass, the tight grip of the man’s hand on his thigh and the sound of his laughter in his ear.

“You guys are weird,” Jason simply stated, still standing in front of them. 

“Dad, I need ten bucks”

“We are in a closed vehicle, what in the world do you want to buy?”

“Billy said that, this time, for ten dollars he would stick the jelly beans up his butt“

“Billy?! My William?!” Linda asked suddenly, Marvin’s grin now coming back to his face.

“Wait…Billy is William?” he asked Whizzer, whose face turned even redder, his lips a thin line as he obviously tried to hold back his laughter even more. He just nodded, having to turn his face away from Linda who was now getting up, speed-walking over to her child, followed by Jason. 

“If he does it, I am not getting them out again,” Whizzer breathed out, his face terribly close to Marvin’s, as he tried to hide it from Linda. 

“William Arthur Philip! What do you think you are doing?” her shrill voice came from the front of the bus. “Pull your pants up again this instant! And put those jelly beans away, for God’s sake!” she added, in an even shriller voice.

Whizzer was shaken with hitched breaths of laughter, for a second sinking his blushed red face into Marvin’s chest, his hand still clenched around his thigh. Marvin held his breath, immediately taking in the soft scent of Whizzer’s shampoo, the contours of his face pressing against his shirt, the soft movements of his body that was now so terribly close. 

“I am so sorry,” Whizzer brought out as he sat up again, removing his hand from Marvin to wipe away the tears in his eyes, glancing over at the scenery. “I should go deal with this,” he said then, still red in the face and trying to catch his breath. 

As he finally got up and walked over, Linda was already coming towards him, wildly waving her arms. “Whizzer, you have to do something about this! These other kids made him do it! They are horrible! They practically forced him!” 

Marvin heard her yell, but he couldn’t stop smiling like a fool, just watching Whizzer’s tall body leaned against the seats, as he was still panting for air, the smile not yet having left his lips.

Marvin had always been sure that he knew what love felt like.

When people talked about it, he was sure he knew what they meant.

I mean he was married!

That was like the endgame!

He knew love!

Of course he knew love!

He didn't know love.

He had been sure he had loved Trina the day he married her.

And maybe he had really loved her.

Maybe he did really love her.

But in a different way.

It wasn’t that kind of love.

It was like how Marvin knew he loved his son.

Since the day he had been born, Marvin had loved Jason with all his heart.

But it wasn’t that kind of love.

If Marvin had known what that kind of love felt like.

Really being in love.

Really, really, really being in love.

Like a thrill.

Like drowning.

Like being on fire.

Like dying.

Like living.

If Marvin had ever experienced it and would be familiar with the feeling he felt right now.

Right now as he looked at Whizzer. 

At Whizzer with his laughter lines.

At Whizzer with this sparkle in his eyes.

The way he made him feel.

The thrill he gave him.

If Marvin had known that that feeling was what love felt like.

If he had known that right this moment, he was falling in love.

He wouldn’t have smiled at this moment.

He would have been terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is this entire chapter based on one vine, what is my life


	7. The Most Beautiful Thing in the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I said I was sorry, I won’t do it again, Whizzer,” Marvin brought out and Whizzer shrugged, still staring down at him.  
> They both didn’t say anything, just looking at each other.  
> Marvin asked himself, if Whizzer wanted to teach him a lesson with this, but there was no bit of maliciousness in the other man’s eyes.  
> He just looked at him as if he was trying to figure something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named the chapter that cuz of that line "my father says that love is the most beautiful thing in the world..." yada yada yada, but ever since the day I first wrote it down EVERYTIME (eveRY FREAKKING TIME) I read it I get that chorus from Kinky Boots singing "the mostttt beautifull thingg in the worrldd, Charlieee, that I knoooooww" stuck in my head for at least 5 hours. Was too lazy to think of another title tho.  
> Enjoy the chapter, love you!

The baseball game went like this:

Guy hits ball with stick.

Ball flies.

Guy runs.

Someone catches the ball.

Ball is thrown again.

And repeat.

Just people running in circles and chasing balls.

What an exciting sport.

People were going crazy.

The kids were yelling and jumping around and cheering and swearing and everything else you can imagine kids doing at some kind of sports event.

Except, the adults were doing it too.

Even Whizzer was on the edge of his seat the whole time, just having eyes for the game, silently mumbling instructions to himself.

“Put in Allen, put in Allen, oh Jesus Christ!” and “God, of course Glynn would strike out! Fucking idiot. Why is he even still on the team?!” were just a few excerpts of the quality entertainment Marvin got that afternoon.

Surprisingly, he didn’t mind that much.

He didn’t mind at all, actually.

Matter of fact, every time Whizzer mumbled another “just run and steal that base, you little bitch!” or “are you kidding me?! I’m gonna kill that umpire,” he couldn’t help but smile.

Sadly, he wasn’t able to fully enjoy the spectacle, Linda sitting on his other side. Luckily she wasn’t able to hear Whizzer swear like a sailor, but she herself was chewing Marvin’s ear off.

“Personally, I think baseball is a rather dangerous sport,” she was currently blabbering about, “Mike – that’s my husband – wanted William to play football, actually, but I said no, absolutely not! Baseball was kind of a compromise between us two.”

Marvin nodded, chuckled lightly as he tried to imagine what his own son would look like on a football team.

“Of course there are great scholarships for football players, though. But no. I still said no. I don’t want him to get hurt! He’ll easily get into college through his scholastic abilities anyway”

“Mhm,” Marvin put his chin in his hand, watching Billy trying to fit jelly beans into his ear. He zoned out for a moment, before Whizzer’s voice woke him up again, followed by a hand frantically hitting his arm.

“Marvin! Marvin, look at his stance! Look! He’s going to hit a home run!” Whizzer had suddenly burst out, eyes fixed on the batter, not glancing away for even a second, while his hands were flailing around, before finding Marvin’s arm, grapping it tightly.

“I am calling it! Just watch! Watch!” Whizzer went on, Marvin feeling him tense up.

“I am watching,” he assured him.

He wasn't watching.

Well, he was, but he was watching something else.

Watching the twinkle of pure excitement in Whizzer's eyes.

Watching the little twiches Whizzer's fingers made.

Watching the tiny dimple on Whizzer's cheek.

"Absolutely incredible!" Whizzer breathed out, watching the ball fly up in the air.

"Yes, absolutely incredible," Marvin agreed quietly.

-

After the game, Marvin really couldn’t care less about the results. 

They had won, apparently, which was good because then there would be considerably less drama (at the game, he had seen grown men who were rooting for the other team weep, so he didn't want to know what more than a dozen preteens would do).

“Yeah, no, it was really interesting,” he assured Jason, meanwhile.

The boy nodded enthusiastically. 

“When Lynn caught the ball and Kobel hadn’t hit third base yet, I thought we would lose for sure! But then Allen hit that home run, it was probably the coolest home run I have ever seen!”

Marvin nodded, pretending he knew what anything Jason had just said meant. “Me too,” he added. 

He knew Jason would see through this easily, but he guessed that the kid was just happy to finally talk about something that interested him and so he let his father's dumbness slide.

They were sat at a small table together, Jason eating the rest of his dinner. Everybody else had already left to their rooms, leaving Jason and Marvin behind, sitting in the warm dining hall of the hotel all by themselves.

“So, you want to hit the hay?” Marvin asked, trying to act cool and nonchalant and failing miserably.

“Hit the hay? Wow, you’re old”

“Then what do the kids say these days?”

“’The kids’ say ‘go to sleep’”

“Well, that’s pretty lame, isn’t it?”

Jason gave him a half smile, nervously looking down at his plate. 

“Uhm…actually, Dad, Mason and Jordan asked if we all want to sleep in one room…so…” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“What?! Jason, I only came on this trip to spend time with you!”

Wow.

There was a lie, if I've ever seen one.

“We’re spending time together right now! It’s just that it’d be fun…like a sleepover! And you guys always say I should have friends!”

“But we can have a sleepover too!”

“Dad, we live in the same house, technically that’s what we do every day!”

They both knew that wasn’t true, but Marvin sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Fine,” he gave in, earning a big smile from Jason.

“Thanks, Dad!”

“But don’t tell your mother! Tell her what a great dad I was and how much time we spend together!”

“Okay! Can I go now?”

“Yeah…”

Jason jumped up from his chair, grabbing his backpack, giving Marvin one last big smile before running back upstairs.

Great.

Now he was all alone.

Why did he bother going on this trip at all?

Oh shit.

“Jason wait! Where will I sle-“ he tried to call after his son, but he had already ran out the door.

Great.

Now he was alone and he had just realized his room was now overtaken by preteens.

Where the fuck was he going to sleep now?!

The hotel was fully booked, everybody had wanted to see this stupid baseball game.

There was only one solution and Marvin didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry about it.

-

Room 217.

There it was.

Right in front of him.

Room 217.

Room 217 had a brown wooden door. 

Like every other door there.

Room 217’s door had a silver handle.

Like every other door there.

What was behind it was not like every door.

Marvin didn’t know what he was afraid of.

He knew exactly what he was afraid of.

He kinda knew what he was afraid of.

He practiced the sentence over and over in his head. 

Hey,sorry to disturb you, Whizzer. It’s just that Jason wanted to use our room to have a sleepover and I now need a place to stay. The guy at the reception said it’s totally common for camp counselors to share a room. 

Hey,sorrytodisturbyou,Whizzer.It’sjustthatJasonwantedtouseourroomtohaveasleepoverandInowneedaplacetostay.Theguyatthereceptionsaidit’scommonforcampcounselorstosharearoom.Hey,sorrytodisturbyou,Whizzer.It’sjustthatJasonwantedtouseourroomtohaveasleepoverandInowneedaplacetostay.Theguyatthereceptionsaidit’scommonforcampcounselorstosharearoom.Hey,sorrytodisturbyou,Whizzer.It’sjustthatJasonwantedtouseourroomtohaveasleepoverandInowneedaplacetostay.Theguyatthereceptionsaidit’scommonforcampcounselorstosharearoom.

He knocked.

Nobody answered.

He knocked again.

No reaction.

Fuck.

Maybe he was asleep already.

He knocked again, worrying he would get obnoxious.

But he did really, really, really need a place to stay.

This wasn’t how he had imagined it.

Somehow, he had imagined Whizzer just opening the door after the faintest sound of knuckles on wood.

And then he would have recited the monologue in his head.

And then Whizzer would let him in.

And it wouldn’t be weird.

He knocked again.

This was definitely getting weird.

Weird and obnoxious, that was what he was.

Maybe he should try calling Whizzer’s name?

Was that a thing people did?

“Whizzer?” he tried

Ok, maybe that had been a bad idea.

Maybe Whizzer wanted to avoid him and would now deliberately not open the door.

“Whizzer?” he tried in a higher pitched voice, briefly thinking this was a good idea and Whizzer would think that it was a kid at the door but then immediately regretting everything.

He turned, ready to walk away (or rather, run away as fast as he could and sleep on the floor of the reception, if he had to), when the door was opened with surprising force.

Behind the open door stood Whizzer. 

A very wet Whizzer.

A very wet Whizzer clad only in a towel.

Whizzer’s hair soaking wet, remains of shampoo in it, while he held a towel around his waist, water dripping down at his chest as he blinked at Marvin. 

Marvin opened his mouth. “Hey, sorry t-“ he tried to remember his monologue, but Whizzer had already turned back around, nodding Marvin to follow him inside 

“Sorry, I was in the shower. Hang on a second, sit down or something” he said, while Marvin closed the door behind himself. 

It almost felt wrong to do so, to close the door while in a room with Whizzer, clad only in a towel, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

“Wait, did you call my name in a high pitched voice?” Whizzer interrupted his thoughts

“Uh…yeah”

“Why?”

“I honestly don’t know”

Whizzer laughed.

Marvin tried not to stare at his chest.

“Is there an emergency?” Whizzer asked then

“No…it’s just that uhh..” he tried not to stare at the towel around Whizzer’s waist, held up only by two fingers. “Jason…uhh..and his friends wanted my room for uh a sleepover and… uh…”

“Oh, he ditched you? Sure, you can sleep here, if you want to,” Whizzer shrugged. “Make yourself at home” he added, before casually vanishing back into the bathroom.

“Don’t take anything from the minibar, though, I am not made out of money!” Whizzer yelled then, from the bathroom, before Marvin heard the shower being turned back on.

Marvin took a deep breath and looked around.

Okay, this definitely was not going to be easy

At

All.

The room had a dark brown desk with a chair, a big window, a minibar and a double bed.

A double bed.

Not two beds.

One bed. 

A double bed. 

For two people to sleep in. 

One bed. 

For two people. 

Mostly two married people. 

A man and a woman. 

A husband and wife. 

Sleeping in just one bed. 

In a double bed.

He walked over, checking if it wasn’t just two beds shoved together.

It wasn’t.

It was one bed.

One bed for two people.

One.

He looked around for a couch, an armchair, something else to sleep on.

Nothing.

If he didn’t want to sleep on a wooden chair or the floor, it was a double bed.

With Whizzer.

Two people in one bed.

Both of them sharing one bed.

Marvin wanted the ground to swallow him whole. 

He heard the shower in the bathroom being switched off, the door opening again, as Whizzer emerged. 

His hair was still dripping wet, but now without shampoo and he was rubbing a towel against it. 

He was wearing some black boxer shorts and a white T-shirt that was slightly sticking to his damp chest.

I do realize that this description sounds exactly like those of a desperate woman swooning at a muscular prince in those romance novels you can buy for one buck at the gas station and I am sorry for that.

But you know Marvin.

Is that guy really that different from your average horny single mom?

Whizzer sat down on one side of the bed, looking up at Marvin. 

“So, Jason’s having a sleepover? With whom?”

“Mason and…Josh? Jake?- I don’t even know. All these kids’ names sound the same” Marvin said, bending down to open his backpack, searching for his pajamas to distract himself from Whizzer’s long legs that were spread out on the bed.

“You mean Jordan? That’s kinda weird, I didn’t know they were friends”

“Yeah, it’s not that easy with Jason,” Marvin shrugged, not really paying attention to their conversation. Instead, he was now frantically searching for his pajamas, but couldn’t find them.

Trina had forgotten to pack his pajamas.

“I forgot to pack my pajamas,” he said out loud, because that sounded less like ‘Mommy forgot to pack my lunch’. 

Whizzer chuckled, pointing at his backpack. “Just take what you want” he told Marvin, before reaching over, taking his notebook from the nightstand. 

Marvin got up, walking over to the black backpack, kneeling down in front of it. He wanted so desperately to take his time with it, to look at everything inside and analyze it and try to figure out what it said about Whizzer’s life. 

But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want to look like the biggest creep of all time.

So instead, he pulled out the first shirt he saw, a dark red one, holding it to his chest as he walked back to the bed, stopping in front of it.

“This is becoming a trend, isn’t it? You borrowing my stuff?” Whizzer teased him.

“Still can’t believe you actually have a handkerchief with your name on it,” Marvin answered.

“Me neither. It was a gift, though”

“You must have special friends,” Marvin laughed.

“Yeah, total freaks,” Whizzer said, but grinned and winked at Marvin.

Marvin felt a flutter inside of himself, quickly looking away.

Should he change right there or should he go to the bathroom?

He didn’t know the proper etiquette for two guys sharing a room, sharing a bed.

On one hand it’d be weird for him to just change right there, on the other hand it’d be weird for him to go to the bathroom, since they were both men. 

And men don’t look at other men’s bodies. 

Right? 

But he didn’t want to take his shirt off in front of Whizzer. 

The man had just winked at him!

But had it been just an innocent joke?

But what if Whizzer thought he looked bad? 

Why did he care about that? 

But Whizzer had such a perfect body. Those long legs in those boxers, this half translucent white shirt. 

Marvin caught himself staring at the man again, Whizzer now back to scribbling stuff into his notebook.

He seriously needed to work on that.

What the fuck was Marvin’s problem? 

He should just change then and there and not make a big fuss out of it! But was that the normal thing to do? Should he go to the bathroom?

He stood motionless in front of the bed for so long that Whizzer raised his head, raising an eyebrow. “You possessed by some evil hotel ghost?” he asked.

“No, I was just…thinking about stuff” Marvin answered.

“You think too much,” Whizzer noted, putting his notebook back on the nightstand, sinking down in the sheets, rubbing his eyes. 

“Come to bed, honey,” he said then, mockingly patting the other side of the bed. 

See, this was how to properly handle a situation like this! 

Not take it too seriously and not overthinking everything. 

They were just two dudes sharing a bed. 

Platonically. 

Nothing weird about it. It was just a funny situation.

Marvin hesitantly took off his button up, immediately pulling Whizzer’s shirt over his head so that no skin was exposed for more than 0.2 seconds.

Now, this wasn’t so bad, was it? 

He took off his pants (thank God, he was wearing his thick black boxers), laying his clothes next to the bed, before getting in the bed, quickly pulling the blanket over his body. 

“Did they only give us one blanket?!” Whizzer asked, as he moved his long legs under it as well. “Well, that’s gonna be a problem...”

“Yeah…that’s totally inappro-“

“I’m a total blanket hogger, it’s really bad. I’m gonna snatch it from you in your sleep,” Whizzer explained.

“Thanks for the warning, I’ll watch out for that,” Marvin chuckled

“You better. Good night, Marvin”

“Good night, Whizzer”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Marvin watched Whizzer.

The moonlight through the window illuminating his face.

His eyes were closed.

His chest moving up and down slowly.

His hair in his face.

His mouth slightly open.

His lips moving.

“Stop staring at me, please?”

“I wasn’t…”

“Mmmmhm,” Whizzer mumbled.

His eyes still closed.

How the fuck did he even know?

Marvin looked away for a couple seconds, before he allowed his eyes to dart back at his face.

He just couldn’t help it!

His teeth were slightly showing through his open lips.

His hand was resting against the pillow.

Whizzer now opened one eye.

“I've said stop it,” he scolded, but sounded amused, rather than annoyed.

“Sorry,” Marvin answered, looking away again. 

He was now looking at the ceiling.

It was white.

Interesting.

Just as he asked himself if it was save to look at Whizzer again, a face popped into his vision. 

Whizzer was now just inches away from him, his chin in his hand and his arm propped up next to Marvin’s shoulder, so that his face was directly looking down at Marvin, his body so close that Marvin that he could feel the warmth radiating from his body and his bare legs against his own.

“I said I was sorry, I won’t do it again, Whizzer,” Marvin brought out and Whizzer shrugged, still staring down at him.

They both didn’t say anything, just looking at each other. 

Marvin asked himself if Whizzer wanted to teach him a lesson with this, but there was no bit of maliciousness in the other man’s eyes. 

He just looked down at him almost as if he was trying to figure out something.

At first Marvin tried to avoid eye contact, but the atmosphere was so quiet, so calm, that their eyes found each other. 

It was just them

Just them, their faces lit in the dim light, looking at each other.

Then, Whizzer bend down and kissed him.

It was…like-

Like everything. 

Kinda.

Marvin felt so terribly scared and he felt fascinated and he felt thrilled and he felt miserable and he felt so incredibly happy and he hoped it would never stop and he felt all of these feelings equally and at once and without contradiction.

It just felt nice.

That is probably the best way to describe it.

Just…really, really nice.

-

That was, until they heard a loud knock at the door.

At first, they both silently decided not to react, Whizzer softly nibbling on Marvin’s bottom lip, while Marvin briefly asked himself if it was the police at the door, ready to arrest them.

“Whizzer! Whizzer! Whizzer! Whizzer!” The voice of a kid debunked that theory, calling from behind the door, making Whizzer wince and harshly bite into Marvin’s lip. 

“Oh fuck, sorry,” he said, as Marvin let out a very unmanly whine.

Well, the whole 'being a super masculine man in front of Whizzer' thing was out of the picture already anyway, Marvin thought, and that fate was sealed when Whizzer softly ran his thumb over the sore on his lip. He then bent down again, now almost carefully pecking Marvin’s lips, as the kid interrupted them again.

“Whizzerrrr!” The boy called impatiently, Whizzer closing his eyes for a second, in annoyance. 

“What do you want, Jordan?” he yelled back, his lips still so close to Marvin’s face, that Marvin pressed his eyes shut at the noise.

“Someone’s sick!” The kid yelled back, now making Whizzer whine. 

“I hate this job so much,” he mumbled under his breath, before looking back down at Marvin. “Sorry” he sighed, pecking his lips one last time before scrambling to get out of bed. He then grabbed one of the hotel robes, putting it on, before opening the door. 

“Now, what exactly is the matter?” he asked

“Someone’s puking!” the kid answered. 

“But why?”

“Because they're sick!”

“Jordan, I am really not in the mood for this. Spill!”

“Well, we had a beer bottle…”

“Oh for heaven’s sake”

“I didn’t drink any of it, I swear!”

“I can fuc- I can freaking see the stain of it on your shirt!”

“It just got on my shirt! I didn’t drink it, though!”

“Yeah, sure. What did you do?”

“Well we were playing this game and everybody just kinda took a sip. Not me, of course! I didn’t! And it tasted totally disgusting anyways!”

Whizzer sighed deeply, turning back to Marvin. 

“I’ll be right back” he told him, before closing the door after himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell I had the baseball wikipedia page open the entire time I wrote this


	8. Want Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin took his clothes off and got into the shower.  
> He just wanted to get rid of it, of any trace of Whizzer on his body.  
> He just needed to get rid of it.  
> He scrubbed his legs, which had touched Whizzer’s..  
> He rubbed ice cold water on his face.  
> On his cheeks.  
> On his lips.  
> He didn’t sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dang, she is back with another chapter! Enjoy, my loves!

Whizzer wasn’t right back.

He wasn’t even left back, Marvin thought.

See what he did there?

Ha

Ha

Comedic gold, right here.

Marvin didn’t feel like laughing.

He lay in bed, staring at the door, but no footsteps were heard, no one came through it.

He raised his hand, touching his lips, as he had done several times, since Whizzer had left. He ran his finger over the small sore part where Whizzer had bitten his lip, leaving the only reminder that this had actually happened.

Marvin was afraid.

He was afraid that while Whizzer was outside he’d have time to think and time to figure out how all of was a terrible idea.

He was afraid that he himself now had time to think and to figure out that this would destroy his family for real.

He was afraid, Whizzer would tell anyone.

He was afraid, he would fall asleep and when he woke up he’d think this all had been a dream.

He wasn’t sure anymore already.

He slowly grasped the hem of his T-shirt – Whizzer’s T-shirt – holding it against his nose. It smelt just like Whizzer. 

He knew he looked absolutely ridiculous. 

It didn’t matter. 

Nobody was there to see.

He felt like crying.

He didn’t.

Marvin hadn’t cried in a long time.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had cried.

Not at his wedding, not at Jason’s birth, not even at his father’s funeral.

From a very early age on, he just hadn’t seen the sense of it.

Expressing yourself through water coming out of your body just isn’t the right method to get your point across, he had always thought.

He didn’t cry at this moment. 

This utterly surreal moment. 

Laying there, alone. 

Just alone, after what had happened.

Marvin didn’t cry.

He wasn’t sad.

He was angry.

Angry at himself.

Angry at the world.

Angry at Whizzer.

He was really angry with Whizzer.

How could he do this to him?

This was wrong.

This lifestyle, these choices that Whizzer made, were wrong.

And they were sick.

It was all so sick.

But they were Whizzer’s choices.

Living in the village, visiting these bars, hanging with these kinds of people, doing these kinds of things: those were his choices.

But now, he was dragging Marvin into it.

This was not fair.

Everything had been fine, before Marvin had laid his eyes on the other man.

Nothing had been fine.

But there had been a way of pretending.

Marvin had made his own choices.

Maybe they weren’t full of cheap thrills, like Whizzer’s.

But they were save choices.

They were good choices.

They were the right choices.

In a burst of anger, Marvin felt his whole body tense up.

This wasn’t fair.

He pulled Whizzer’s shirt over his head, throwing it across the room. 

He screamed into his pillow, until he had to catch his breath, panting.

This wasn’t fair…

He put his hands over his eyes, his body still heaving up and down, while he pushed the stifling blanket off his body and onto Whizzer’s side. He curled up, feeling the sweat run down his forehead, feeling his hands that had tensed up into fists and feeling the heaviness in his chest.

He just wanted Whizzer to come back.

-

Marvin was woken up by the door being opened, creaking loudly, a ray of light entering the room, before it was quickly shut again. He slightly opened his eyes, making out Whizzer’s shadow walking through the dark room, only lit by the dim moonlight. 

Whizzer’s hair was dry now, having air dried into all kinds of directions, wildly sticking away from his head. He wasn’t wearing his robe anymore, sweat on his forehead and his white T-shirt now covered in several big stains. 

This time, he didn’t seem to notice Marvin watching him, but seemed lost in his thoughts as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, walking over to the bathroom, soaking it under the tab water.

Marvin watched his back through the open door. 

His mind was still angry at Whizzer.

His body just wanted to watch him, forever.

When Whizzer was finished washing the shirt, he walked back into the room, carelessly stuffing it into his backpack. He then made his way back to the bed, hurriedly looking around as if he was searching for something. The half-naked man stopped in his tracks, apparently just now having noticed Marvin still laying there. 

Marvin quickly pressed his eyes shut, cursing himself for having taken off the shirt as well as the blanket, feeling terribly exposed.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, fingertips running over his skin, carefully, as not to wake him up. Then, he could feel the blanket being laid back over his body, Whizzer’s careful fingers tucking him in. 

Marvin pressed his eyes shut more tightly, trying to ignore the warm feeling these touches made his groin feel.

It wasn’t Whizzer’s fault.

Maybe all of it hadn’t been Whizzer’s fault.

Maybe the choices he was making were alright, after all.

He felt Whizzer tuck a loose curl of his behind his ear, before he stepped away again. Marvin dared to take a peek, feeling such a warm and fuzzy feeling for the other man, stirring inside of himself. 

He watched Whizzer put his camp counsellor shirt, his shorts and shoes back on, and shoulder his backpack. Then, as if he had just remembered something, he looked around again and walked over to Marvin’s backpack.

Marvin was taken aback for a moment, now fully staring at Whizzer, who was kneeling next to his backpack, searching around in it.

What was he doing?

This wasn’t right!

Who even does that?!

What was he taking?

Money?

Did he think Marvin owed him any kind of money for that kiss?

Was he planting something for Trina to find?

Marvin got mad again.

He should get up and yell at him.

But he still felt Whizzer’s hand on his skin.

And he still felt the warm blanket around his body.

Whizzer had apparently found what he was looking for, but it was still too dark for Marvin to see what it was. In a quick move, the man put it in his pocket, standing back up and hurrying out of the door.

Marvin blinked.

He stared after him.

He should get up.

He should run after him.

He didn’t.

He was so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

Of course, he was using him.

Of course, this hadn’t been real.

He was so, so stupid.

Marvin sat up.

He threw the blanket back on the floor.

He walked into the bathroom.

He took his boxer shorts off and got into the shower.

He just wanted to get rid of it.

Of any trace of Whizzer on his body.

Whizzer’s hands on his skin, in his hair.

Whizzer’s lips on his lips.

He needed to get rid of it.

He scrubbed his legs, which had touched Whizzer’s.

He scrubbed his arms, which had touched Whizzer’s.

He scrubbed his fingers.

He rinsed his hair once.

He rinsed his hair twice.

He rubbed ice cold water on his face.

On his cheeks.

On his lips.

He didn’t sleep that night.

-

The bus left at 9am.

Marvin knew that.

Still, he had been sitting on the curb, waiting for it, since 7am.

He didn’t feel like going to breakfast, he didn’t want to see Whizzer.

He didn’t want to wait around in their room, with everything in there reminding him of last night.

So he just sat there.

He watched people walk their dogs and he watched gardeners watering the plants and he watched business men checking into the hotel and he watched a squirrel run around and he watched all of those little things that make human life a pandemonium of little acts and gestures, and he paid attention to none of it.

What did Whizzer take from him?

Yesterday night, he had searched his entire backpack, but nothing was missing and nothing was new.

But Whizzer had taken something, he had seen him!

What did he take?

Around 8:30am the curb started filling up with the camp children, who had now finished their breakfast.

It was a depressing sight.

Most kids had their arms crossed, looking very bored, others were still half asleep. Marvin spotted his own son standing alone, leaned against a wall. He walked over to Jason, as the other kids started piling into the bus. 

“Hey, buddy,” Marvin said, Jason looking over at him with tired eyes.

“Hi, Dad.”

“So about last night…I heard some kids were drinking a beer, is that right?”

“I don’t know”

“You were in their room though, weren’t you? Because I heard that kid Jordan last night and you guys were sharing a room”

“I guess.”

“Jason, I am not saying you did anything, I am just asking”

“I am just answering!”

“Well, I mean, I won’t tell Mom, but did you take part in it?”

“Why wouldn’t you tell Mom? You always say that! Why don’t you guys just get a divorce?!”

“Jason, don’t change the subject!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Hey, you don’t talk to me like that, okay? I am still your father!”

“I wish you weren’t, you’re embarrassing me!”

Marvin took a deep breath.

He counted to 10 in his head.

“Jason, just tell me. What happened last night?”

“Nothing! Just leave me alone!” Jason snapped, walking away from him, into the bus.

Marvin counted to 20.

He walked into the bus, looking around, finding Jason sitting alone with his headphones in his ears, staring out of the window. As Marvin stepped closer, he put his backpack on the seat next to himself, not even looking at his father.

Marvin counted to 30, as he walked to the back of the bus.

There, he found Whizzer. 

Whizzer had his eyes closed, sitting in Marvin’s seat, head leaned against the window.

Marvin was glad for the easy-out this gave him, quietly sitting down in the other seat.

The bus ride home was quiet.

It was almost worse than the bus ride there, but only almost. I mean, did you ever spend four hours in a bus with a bunch of screaming children? Them finally shutting up on the way home is definitely not as bad. 

Marvin would have quite enjoyed the bus ride, if – thanks to Whizzer for stealing his seat - he wouldn’t be stuck next to Linda. She wasn’t as chatty as yesterday, but her sheer presence, sitting next to him, pretending to read her book, made him uncomfortable.

“So how was your night?” She asked him, making him shift in his seat.

“Uh, it was good. Nothing special,” he answered, nervously.

What if she knew what had happened last night?

No, that was impossible.

But what if she did?

But how?

What if Whizzer had told her?

He wouldn’t have!

But Whizzer had done a lot of things he wouldn’t have thought he’d do.

What if one of the kids had seen him and Whizzer and told her about it?

They couldn’t have, it had been way too dark.

“Really? I heard you had quite a lot of fun!”

“…fun? I don’t know what you mean”

Marvin was sweating.

She definitely knew.

“I mean fun with Whizzer! Didn’t you guys have fun last night?”

“Why would we- I mean we- We didn’t-“

“I just mean it must be nice to spend time without the kids! I shared a room with William and he is a wonderful child, really quite remarkable child. Did you know he started reading at the age of two?”

“Uh…no I didn’t?”

“Yes, yes, he is very gifted! Anyway, you and Whizzer must have had quite the celebration!” she nodded to the sleeping Whizzer. “I know some people might see me as a bit on the stricter side, but I can let my hair down too. Me and my book club, we are a very cheerful crowd! You should have invited me too!”

“Oh, eh, yeah, next time we definitely will. We just..eh…talked and stuff,” Marvin lied.

She smiled and nodded, Karen next to her rolling her eyes, as she now started a conversation with her. “Maybe you would want to join the book club as well, Karen? Do you like white wine?” 

“Whizzer?” Marvin then asked quietly, gathering all his confidence.

“Hm?” Whizzer mumbled in return, his eyes still closed and head still leaned against the window.

“Why didn’t you tell the other parents what happened last night with the kids?”

“It’s a long story”

“I think you should tell them. I mean it’s pretty serious and they are the parents”

“Marvin, I know what I am doing,” Whizzer answered, opening his eyes now, looking at Marvin.

Shit.

He had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were.

And how piercing.

And how much it hurt to look at them, after what had happened.

“But do you, though? Did you even talk to the kids? They mostly just look tired”

“I’ve talked to them”

“I just think…- You’re not a parent, you know? You don’t really know how to deal with these things. Are you even planning to tell the other parents when we come back? Would I even know, if I hadn’t been there?”

“No, I am not going to tell them”

“Whizzer!”

“Marvin, please, just let me do my job, okay?!”

“But you’re not doing your job!”

“It’s a long fucking story and it took all night, so I am really fucking tired. Just trust me, okay?”

Trust him.

Trust him?!

After everything he had seen?

He was supposed to trust him?

“I just think-“ Marvin started, but Whizzer had closed his eyes again.

“Save it.” Whizzer mumbled.

Marvin turned the other way, sighing. His eyes wandered to his son, watching Jason, who was still looking out of the window. 

He didn’t know what was going on in the head of that kid: if he liked Marvin, if he despised Marvin, if he thought about chess, if he thought about baseball, if he thought about girls, if he thought about…boys. 

It crossed Marvin’s mind that his – what do you call it? Condition? – could also be passed on to his son. 

Sometimes, Jason reminded him so much of himself.

The curls, the brains.

The temper, the lack of friends.

He wasn’t a good father.

Everything was his fault.

He wasn’t the father Jason deserved.

He knew that.

And he was convinced that Jason knew it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, the next chapter will explain the whole shebang of what happened that night with the kids and with Whizzer, yada yada yada. This chapter was honestly kinda just milking all that good good angst potential that Marvin's character has to offer.


	9. Daddy's Sincere, But a Schmo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s just that nobody here likes me,” Jason mumbled, still looking down.  
> “That’s not true! I like you!”  
> “Big deal, you’re my dad”  
> The kid had a point.  
> But also, not really.  
> Marvin didn’t like most of his relatives.  
> Hell, he didn’t even like his own wife and he had voluntarily chosen to marry her!  
> Marvin considered telling Jason all of this, but then he decided that telling his son he hated his mother and all other relatives maybe wasn’t the best way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want everbody to know that while uploading this chapter, I am simultaneously watching "The Devil Wears Prada" and honestly if that isn't a mood, idk what is

This was a bad idea.

A really, really bad idea.

No, this was a good idea.

This was the mature thing to do.

Marvin was brave, really.

Having the courage to say about Whizzer, what everyone thought, but no one dared to say.

Speaking out all those things!

Behind his back…

“I’ve got to say, I am glad you’ve reached out to us,” the man behind the desk said.

“Yeah, I guess,” the man in front of the desk said.

That was Marvin.

He was the one sitting in front of the desk.

It is a question of from which side you look, really.

But he was the one on the visitor’s side.

You get the picture.

“So, you want me to tell you what happened? So there were these kids and they sneaked some alcohol and…” Marvin began, nervously looking around the office.

Mr. Feinstein, the golden plated nameplate on the desk said.

Chairman of the Jewish Center, the golden plated nameplate on the desk said.

“Honestly? You don’t have to tell me,” the man named Mr. Feinstein, sitting at the desk said.

“I don’t?”

“Not really. You are an honorable member here at the Jewish Center, Mr…” Mr. Feinstein looked down at his notes.

“Marvin works fine”

“Oh, great! So, Marvin, you are an honorable member to us. And if you have complaints about an employee, we take that very seriously”

Marvin nodded.

Before he had brought Jason to camp a couple of weeks ago, he had literally never set foot onto the premises, but okay.

God, life as a straight, white, upper middle-class man is so goddamn easy.

“I don’t need to hear what exactly that punk did,” the man went on. “I am sure it was most dreadful. Truth is, I’ve never liked him. My stupid secretary hired him when I was on vacation, so now I am stuck with him. Between you and me, something isn’t right with that kid. Who is even called Whizzer?! I don't think that's his real name...”

Marvin shifted in his seat.

He nodded again.

“It’s not right, letting him work with children,” Mr. Feinstein went on, “he lives in Greenwich village, you know? And you know the people that live there…”

“Yeah…uhm, actually I just came here because I thought that whole kids drinking thing should come to the attention of the parents, I didn’t want Whizzer to get in trouble”

“Oh, don’t feel bad for that guy! I am just thankful, someone finally comes in here and gives me a reason to fire that schmo! Thank you so much, Marvin, goodbye”

-

Whizzer deserved it.

He had stolen from Marvin!

He had lied to the other parents!

He totally deserved this!

He deserved getting fired.

He deserved getting a bad employee review letter.

He deserved nobody to ever hire him again because of that.

He deserved not being able to afford food.

He deserved to starve to death.

Oh my God.

Marvin had killed Whizzer.

He had just wanted to make it better.

His life at home sucked.

More than usually.

Jason wasn’t talking to him anymore and Trina was constantly asking why.

The worst thing was, he didn’t know why.

He didn’t know what had happened that night.

And it was killing him.

Still, this hadn’t been a good idea.

Marvin walked back downstairs, past the reception. It was almost time to pick up Jason.

He dreaded it.

The thing worse than a child who only talked to you about things you don’t care about, is a child who doesn’t talk to you at all.

He found Jason and the other kids outside, in the backyard of the center. Some were throwing baseballs to each other, while others were just kinda standing around, feeling too cool to play and just waiting around for their parents to pick them up.

Jason was standing in a corner of the yard, a bat clenched in his hands, Whizzer a couple of feet away from him, pitching a ball.

“Jason, this time, you've got this! Just remember to keep your head in the box,” Marvin heard Whizzer say, before he pitched the ball.

Jason missed.

“That’s okay! Just…keep your head in the box! Eye on the ball!” Whizzer encouraged him again, picking up another ball from the ground and throwing it.

Jason missed.

“I suck, just give it up, Whizzer! I'll never hit the ball! I'll forever be the only one who hasn't hit it even once...” Jason said in a tone that broke Marvin’s heart, letting the bat sink down.

“You don’t suck! Come on, get that bat back up and get in position! Head in the box! Uhh, let’s try this, close your eyes! Take a deep breath,” Whizzer said, picking up another ball. 

“Aaand swing!” he ordered, Jason swinging the bat, his eyes still shut tightly. Meanwhile, Whizzer didn’t throw the ball at Jason, but quickly turned and threw it in the opposite direction.

“Jason, you did it!” Whizzer called then, smiling brightly.

“What?”

“You’ve hit the ball! Look!” Whizzer said, pointing over at the ball he had thrown across the yard.

“Woah, really?! I didn’t even feel it hit the bat!”

“Yeah, that’s normal! It’s just the adrenaline, you know”

“That’s so far! That would be at least three bases!”

“I know, right?! I told you, you could do it!” Whizzer smiled, nudging the boy’s shoulder.

Okay, maybe this would be a good time to step in.

Jason seemed happy.

Whizzer seemed happy.

Marvin walked closer.

“Good job, buddy,” Marvin tried, giving Jason a smile.

It worked.

“Dad, did you see that?! I’ve hit the ball really far!” Jason blurted out.

“I sure did!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Neither can I,” Marvin chuckled, looking at Whizzer.

Whizzer smiled back at him, shrugging. “Uhm, I gotta go clean up the balls,” he said, winking at Marvin, before walking away.

Jason and Marvin stood there, unsure what to do.

Then, Jason spoke.

“Hey, Dad?” he said in a nervous, quiet voice.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for being such a jerk…”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too, Jason”

Marvin didn’t quite know what he was sorry for himself.

But there was always something, these days.

In the meantime, Jason sank down on the ground, looking down. He was sitting on the ground, pulling grass out of the earth, still nervously biting his lip. 

Marvin didn’t want to sit on the grass.

His suit was-

Okay, he didn’t exactly know what brand it was.

And it hadn’t even been expensive.

He had probably bought it when Jason was still in kindergarten.

He sat down on the grass.

“It’s just that nobody here likes me,” Jason mumbled, still looking down.

“That’s not true! I like you!”

“Big deal, you’re my dad”

The kid had a point.

But also, not really.

Marvin didn’t like most of his relatives.

Hell, he didn’t even like his own wife, and he had voluntarily chosen to marry her!

Well, voluntarily and through the intense pressure of a pregnancy.

But anyway, being related to him was not really a crucial factor.

Marvin considered telling Jason all of this, but then he decided that telling his son he hated his mother and all other relatives maybe wasn’t the best way to go.

“Yeah, but Whizzer likes you! And Josie likes you and Jordan and…what’s his name again? Mark?” he said instead.

“Mason?”

“Yeah! That guy likes you too!”

“They don’t…”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m weird”

Jason really was kinda weird.

With his obsession with chess and his adult vocabulary.

He really was weird.

“You’re not weird!” Marvin said.

“That night at the hotel…” Jason started, “I thought Jordan and Mason really wanted to have a sleepover with me. And I thought it would be so much fun. But they didn’t. They just wanted the room. When I came there they even told me that, they didn’t even lie about it! They said they didn’t want me there…”

Marvin fucking hated all of these kids.

What fucking kids don’t even have the decency to pretend to like someone they ripped off?!

“So I thought, we could still have fun and I asked them, if we wanted to play chess and they said chess was for freaks”

Of course they would say that.

Those idiot kids would call anyone whose IQ was higher than 3 a freak.

“Then they wanted to play truth or dare and I said sure. I like truth or dare and it was going fine at first, but then they asked me if I had ever kissed a girl and I said no”

Of course Jason had said no!

He was ten fucking years old!

What kind of monsters were these kids?!

“And then they laughed at me and said I was a fairy and a homo, and a baby. Mason said he has kissed like a hundred girls!” Jason mumbled, still ripping out the grass.

Well, Mason is a bitch-ass liar, Marvin wanted to say.

He clenched his fists.

“So then I said I wasn’t a baby and I wasn’t a fairy! And they said to prove it and dared me to drink a beer from the minibar. See, because the room was booked in your name, they thought an adult was staying there and stocked it with alcohol. I knew it was wrong to do it, but they kept teasing me, so I took a sip. It was so disgusting! Jordan and the others also took a sip and they seemed totally fine, so then I took another to prove to them that I was fine too, but then I threw up all over the carpet…”

Marvin wanted to hug Jason.

He knew he should.

But he didn’t move.

“Then they laughed even more and went away and Jordan got Whizzer, but I think more to get me in trouble, than to help. But Whizzer didn’t even yell at me, he yelled at them! And then he cleaned it up and stayed with me and talked to me all night and told me they were…can I say a bad word?”

“Sure”

“Arseholes”

Marvin nodded.

Seems about right.

“And he didn’t even say anything when I had to throw up again and it got on his shirt and he even got me all of my baseball cards from your backpack”

“Wait, what? You put your cards in my backpack?”

“Yeah, I put them in before we left the house, because I thought you might want to learn the player’s names before the game. To not, you know, totally embarrass yourself”

“I didn’t know you put them in there..”

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you. Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No…no, I uhm-“

The cards.

That night, Whizzer had gotten the baseball cards out of Marvin’s backpack.

He hadn’t stolen anything.

Fuck.

“Are you mad at me?” Jason asked.

“No, I’m not mad at you. I’m just mad at these other kids,” Marvin sighed.

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier..” Jason mumbled, “I even make Whizzer swear not to tell anyone what happened and not to be mad at the other kids, that’d just make them hate me more. Whizzer told me that you wouldn’t be mad and that I should tell you but…”

“But?”

“I was just scared you’d be disappointed in me…”

“Disappointed in you?!”

“Yeah, because I’m so weird and I don’t fit it. You guys send me there to fit in and I really tried to, but I just…- I don’t know.”

Oh, he had fucked up.

He had fucked up big time.

“Jason…” he started, but he couldn’t find the right words. 

He wanted to put his hand on the kid’s shoulder, like a supportive dad in one of those movies they play on Christmas.

He wanted to make an inspirational speech about being yourself and about not giving a fuck about what others thought.

But was he really the right person to speak about things like that?!

He wanted to tell Jason he loved him.

But he couldn’t say it, he couldn’t find the words.

He didn’t give a fuck, if Jason fit in.

He didn’t WANT Jason to fit in, even!

Not with those kids, not with those little monsters!

If playing chess made him happy, then so be it.

He didn’t care.

Who cares if you are good at baseball?

Literally no one.

He just wanted Jason to be happy. 

He wanted Jason to do whatever made him happy, no matter what anybody else thought about it.

He wanted to say all of this.

But he couldn’t.

Marvin nervously fumbled around with his hands, watching his son sit there, the bat laying next to him, his eyes still on the ground, his hand still absently ripping out the grass. 

Then, he found something.

Something was in his pants pocket.

Marvin frowned, pulling out a wrinkled up baseball card. 

It was the card Whizzer had given him on the bus ride.

“Wait, Dad. Is this Pete Falcone?!” Jason suddenly said, as he spotted the card, his head shooting up.

“Uhm, I think so, yes”

“How did you know?”

“Hm?”

“How did you know it was the only card I was still missing from my collection!”

“Oh, I.. uh-“

“Even Whizzer doesn’t have this card, I’ve asked him like a thousand times!”

“Yeah, uh, I got it special for you,” Marvin lied, handing it over to his son.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marvin took a deep breath.

“Jason, listen, you could never do anything to disappoint me,” he breathed out. “Well, except for taking drugs, please don’t do that,” he added, because he felt like he kinda had to or Trina would yell at him.

Jason smiled at Marvin.

Marvin smiled at Jason

“Now, can you wait here for one second? I gotta go talk to Whizzer real quick”

-

Marvin found Whizzer inside the ball shed, he was putting the baseballs back into a basket, when he noticed Marvin.

“Hello, stranger,” he chuckled. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, work and stuff,” Marvin lied, closing the door behind himself. 

It just now occurred to him that Whizzer didn’t even know he was mad at him.

Well, had been mad at him.

All Whizzer knew was that they had kissed and then Marvin had yelled at him for not doing his job and had now randomly turned up at his work place.

What Whizzer didn’t know was that the reason Marvin was there was that he had complained to Whizzer’s boss about him.

And it had turned out that he had complained to his boss without reason.

And that Marvin’s kid had been the one responsible for the whole thing.

Great.

Good job, Marvin.

A+ for those communication skills.

Marvin didn’t know what to say next.

Shocker.

“So, about that night at the hotel and our…,” he tried.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Whizzer chuckled, putting the basket on the shelf.

“Oh, good,” Marvin breathed out. “Oh, and Jason told me what happened after that thing we did”

“Did he? That’s good, I wanted to tell you, but he made me swear”

“Yeah, he told me. I just wanted to say that that was really nice of you. To…you know, care for him and stuff…”

“Thanks, but it’s no big deal. It’s kinda my job”

“No, it’s really not… It’s my job, you know, as a dad. I just suck at it as much as Jason sucks at baseball”

“Yeah, baseball really isn’t his venue,” Whizzer laughed, stepping closer.

They looked at each other.

Then, they kissed.

Then, Whizzer pressed him against the wall.

Marvin felt it again.

The warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

The tingling feeling in his lips.

And...other feelings in…other parts of his body.

Whizzer’s lips were on his neck now, his hands moving down his back, coming to a halt on his butt.

This kiss was different from the one that night.

That one had been shy and slow.

This one was impatient and longing.

Marvin liked it.

He felt his body ache for more, for something he didn’t even know how to do it.

There were no whips or anything in this shed!

Was Whizzer going to beat him up like that?

How were they going to do it?

Whizzer sucked into the skin on his neck, making him let out an involuntary moan. One of Whizzer’s hands was on his hips, seemingly unsure into which direction he wanted to push Marvin.

“You a top or bottom?” he heard Whizzer ask into his ear, his voice quiet, but full of desire.

“Hm?” Marvin asked, but got distracted by Whizzer’s hands now opening his belt. “I’m…I-“ he stuttered, as he felt Whizzer’s fingers under his waistband, on his bare skin. 

He felt Whizzer kiss him again.

He felt Whizzer’s fingers brush against his skin.

He felt his groin moving against those touches.

He felt a tingling inside of himself.

He felt immense pleasure inside of himself.

Then, he felt a big, wet stain spreading between his legs and onto his underwear and pants.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” he cursed, but it was already too late.

Whizzer looked down between their bodies, quickly stepping back again. He slowly pulled his hand back, wiping it on a stray towel that lay on a basket full of footballs.

“Oh no, oh fuck no,” Marvin cursed, rubbing his sleeve against the wet spot. “I’m sorry,” he told Whizzer, but was still more concerned with the spot, than with leaving Whizzer cold.

Trina was going to have to wash these pants!

She would see!

She would ask questions!

He would have to walk out of the shed like this!

“Fuck,” Marvin said (for the fifth time in the span of 15 seconds), sinking down the wall of the shed, burying his face in his hands.

This was so embarrassing.

He had just come into his pants, like a 13-year-old at his first slow dance.

He was an adult man!

This was so fucking embarrassing.

“It’s okay, Marvin,” he heard Whizzer say, who was clearly trying to suppress his laughter, as he kneeled down next to him. “Happens to the best of us”

“Did that ever happen to you?!”

“Well, not in the last decade or so, but-“ Whizzer took a deep breath, the corner of his mouth twitching dangerously. “But I’ve never made out with myself, so I can’t really judge the situation properly.”

“Very funny,” Marvin sighed. “I can’t go out like this!”

“Hang on, we’ll find a solution,” Whizzer told him, looking around the shed.

“I’m not putting on some gym shorts of some 5th grader,” Marvin warned him.

“Always with the extra wishes,” Whizzer scolding him, chuckling. “I have a better idea, anyway,” he said then, walking to the back of the shed and coming back with a bucket.

“You want me to put on a bucket? Great idea,” Marvin rolled his eyes.

“Almost,” Whizzer answered, lifting it over Marvin’s head and dumping five gallons of water on him.

“Whizzer, what the hell?!” Marvin yelled and now Whizzer had given up suppressing his laughter, laughing loudly.

“Now no one can see the wet spot anymore!” he defended himself.

“Yeah, because now I am soaking wet all over!”

“Exactly!”

“I fucking hate you”

“Clearly,” Whizzer chuckled, gesturing to Marvin’s crotch, before they walked back outside.

-

“Dad, why are you all wet?!” Jason asked, as he spotted them and came closer.

“Whizzer…uh pulled a prank on me,” Marvin answered.

“What? Without me?!” Jason complained, looking at Whizzer.

“Sorry, kid, was an opportunity I couldn’t let slide,” Whizzer grinned.

“Hey, Whizzer?” someone called then. It was a young guy with short blonde hair, who was jogging up to Whizzer, coming from the building of the Jewish Center.

“Yeah?” 

“Mr. Feinstein wants to talk to you, he said it was urgent”

“Oh shit”

“Yeah, he seems mad…and happy at the same time”

“That’s never a good sign”

“Yeah, you better hurry”

“Thanks, Lucas,” Whizzer nodded, rubbing his temple, as the guy ran back inside. 

The smile on his face had faded.

“Who was that?” Marvin asked.

“Lucas is my boss’ secretary,” Whizzer explained, suddenly looking very worried as he looked back at the building.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Marvin had forgotten all about that talk.

Shit.

“I better go,” Whizzer said, walking away already. “See you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see you!” Marvin said, knowing full well that this had been Whizzer’s last day here.

And it had all been Marvin’s fault.

-

Jason talked to Marvin again.

Jason laughed with Marvin again.

The drive home was nice.

Really nice.

Beautiful sunny day, happy people, happy Jason.

Marvin could enjoy none of it.

“And that is why I think Falcone's the best player!" Jason closed his monologue, as Marvin unlocked the front door. "Hey, Dad, you wanna play chess with me?” he asked then.

“Wait…you actually want to play…with me?” Marvin asked, staring at his son.

Now, this hadn’t happened in years.

Jason loved playing chess.

Against himself.

Playing against other people made him annoyed.

And it made the people annoyed.

So many days of flipping over boards and yelling at each other.

So many nights of endless rematches.

And that had been when Jason was six and Marvin had only just taught him how to play!

So they hadn’t played anymore since then.

“Yes, with you!” Jason insisted. “I’ll get the board!” he called, running to his room, while Marvin walked over to the bedroom.

“Alright,” he smiled softly, as he took off his watch, putting it on his dresser. 

"Oh, hey, Trina! Don't ask, it's a long story,” he said as noticed her standing in the corner, gesturing down his still damp hair and body. “But did you hear that? A miracle has happened!" he smiled, as he bent down and got on one foot, to take off his shoes. "Jason said he wants to play chess with m-“

“I found this,” Trina interrupted him, her voice ice cold.

Marvin turned around, still hopping on one foot and the smile still on his face.

“What is this?” Trina asked, standing there with tears in her eyes, her voice shaking. “I was changing the sheets and…- why was this under our mattress? Marvin, what is this?!”

His smile faded.

She was holding the Playgirl magazine in her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason, while writing this chapter, i've had to google pictures of the insides of sheds an unholy amount of times and i don't even know why. Yes, I also googled how many gallons fit into a bucket.


	10. What a Joy's Monogamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer stared back at him. Now that he was looking at him, Marvin could see that his eyes were glassy and although he was standing still, he was still swaying a little. Whizzer opened his mouth and then closed it again.
> 
> “You did what?” he then asked quietly.

“Marvin, you know that for this whole thing to make sense, you do have to talk to me”

“No, thank you”

“And why is that, do you think? How does this situation make you feel?”

“It makes me feel like I am wasting my time and my money”

“You are if you aren’t talking to me”

Marvin massaged his temple, staring at the man sitting opposite to him.

Why was he even here?

He didn’t need a therapist!

Therapists were for lunatics.

He was just a totally normal, productive, and fully functioning member of society.

This was all Trina’s fault.

“What would I even talk about?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Why don’t we start with what brings you here?”

“What about it?”

This guy knew nothing.

He knew nothing about anything!

He thought he did because of that fancy diploma on his wall and because of the thirty second talk on the phone, when Marvin had made the appointment, but he knew nothing.

He knew nothing at all about Marvin.

Trina knew nothing either.

She would divorce him, if he didn’t get help, she had said.

He hadn’t even told her half of the truth and she already told him to get help.

He had just told her that the magazine had been delivered to their house by accident and he just had had a brief look inside and then forgot about it, but it must have fallen between the bed and the mattress.

You would believe this story, right?

Trina apparently didn’t.

Or maybe she did a little.

But she wasn’t stupid.

Well, sometimes she wasn’t totally stupid.

And she could connect the dots between her husband not being able to get it up to sleep with her and finding a male porn magazine stashed under their mattress.

You don’t really have to be Sherlock Holmes.

Although having Sherlock Holmes there would have probably been a much nicer affair, with much less crying and screaming about the whole thing.

You must see a psychiatrist, she had said.

Go get this stuff sorted out, before it is too late, she had said.

So Marvin had called the first ad for an psychiatrist he had found in the phone book and now she sat in the car parked in front of the building, waiting for him.

Probably waiting for him to come back with a tear stained face and telling her how he had talked about his childhood and was now cured of his ungodly urges.

She had said it, as if Marvin hadn’t even tried that before.

As if he was just totally okay with it and it was her idea in the first place.

It wasn’t her idea!

She thought she was some kind of genius, but she really wasn’t.

She didn’t know half the things Marvin had went through!

Maybe it was a good idea, though.

Seeking therapy for these feelings.

Marvin looked at the psychiatrist again.

He was talking.

Marvin wasn’t listening.

Maybe he really should be listening.

Maybe this was good.

But every time Marvin listened to him, he got scared.

Every time, he got thinking of Whizzer.

What if he did get cured.

What about Whizzer?

He didn’t want to feel the feelings he felt for Whizzer.

But he desperately also did not not feel those feelings.

They made him feel good.

And they made him feel happy.

And they made him feel alive.

“Marvin? Are you listening to me? What are you thinking about?” the psychiatrist – what was his name again? – asked.

“What’s your name again?” Marvin asked.

“Mendel Weisenbachfeld,” he answered.

‘That is the most Jewish name I have ever heard, it’s honestly ridiculous, just like your whole identity,’ Marvin thought.

“Ah,” Marvin said.

“So, Marvin, what was your childhood like?”

Of fucking course.

Why didn’t Marvin just go to a 9th grade psych class to get himself – as Trina put it – ‘sorted out’? That would honestly be a lot cheaper and he would get the same level of professional knowledge.

“Mendel, I have a question,” Marvin said slowly, not willing to play this whole ‘let’s blame my childhood for everything that is wrong in my life’ spiel.

However, Marvin immediately regretted this step.

Mendel’s face had lit up like a menorah and he was now staring at Marvin with such an intensity and excitement that Marvin though about just leaving without another word.

“Yes! Yes, ask away!” he said, nodding like a bobble head.

God, Marvin hated those figurines.

They were just so…stupid.

Just…why?

Why the big head?

Is it supposed to be cute?

It isn’t, though.

So just…why?

“Uh, yeah,” Marvin started, trying to push his thoughts about bobble heads aside. “So if I accidentally harm someone, but don’t see them again after that for a while, how do I make it up to the person?”

Mendel was still nodding enthusiastically, as if he had any idea what, or rather who, Marvin was talking about.

“So, a sincere apology can really go a long way and..”

An apology.

Groundbreaking.

So now they went from 9th grade psych class to actual kindergarten level.

This whole thing was useless.

He didn’t even know why he was here in the first place.

Was a divorce really that bad?

Yeah, probably.

Costs you a lot of social status.

And a divorce for those reasons could really just ruin his whole life.

So therapy it was.

Marvin looked out of the window, not listening anymore already.

This was stupid.

-

It took Marvin an hour to get rid of Trina and to convince her that he was totally fine and now going to work.

It took Marvin two hours to find Whizzer’s apartment.

He didn’t know if he should consider himself lucky or not.

In New York, finding someone’s apartment is an actual odyssey, a journey of no return, even if you have an address. 

So many buildings, so many apartments, so many fucking people just everywhere.

Now imagine trying to find a person’s apartment solely by their name.

It’s basically impossible.

However, this was apparently not the case, if your name was Whizzer Brown.

“Hey, do you, by any chance, know where Whizzer Brown lives?” Marvin had asked about twenty people around Christopher Street, and although surprisingly everybody seemed like they did, he still received mixed reactions. 

From a “Oh Whizzer? Yes, I know him. He lives – wait, what do you want from him?” to a “Why?” to “Yeah, I do. I won’t tell you,” Marvin got the impression that he didn’t exactly look like a person people here would trust.

Or, to put it in other words, he looked like a total narc.

Many people tried to give him directions, but as you may know if someone ever stopped you and asked for directions, they were mostly bullshit stammering of “and then you turn left and then- uhhh well…I think you have to take a right. It’s complicated, there are a lot of traffic lights. Uhh…I don’t know the name of the street but there is a store and then there is a house and there you walk into the alley and…- I think I am describing the wrong way. Wait, who are you searching again?" When he finally stood in front of the grey brick building with the fire escapes build around it, he breathed out. 

Have you ever watched a movie or TV show where they show the outside of an apartment complex in New York?

With the brick walls and the fire escape ladders?

Yeah, just picture that.

They all pretty much look the same, really.

No, the bricks are way darker and way shabbier than that, this is real-life, not a TV show set, come on.

Yes, the ladders are rusty and several steps are broken.

Yeah, that’s it.

Good job.

That’s Whizzer Brown’s apartment building.

Or, so people had told Marvin.

“Brown,” it said on the name tag next to the bell. 

Of course, there were thousands of Browns in New York, but it was a good sign.

He rang the doorbell.

Nothing happened.

He leaned against the door in case he had already missed the buzz that was supposed to open it.

It was loud here, after all.

However, the door still didn’t budge.

He rang the doorbell again.

Now, why was this a recurring theme with Whizzer?

Marvin constantly knocking on his doors and Whizzer never answering?

Bet your English teacher would go buck wild with analyzing this kind of stuff, wouldn’t they.

Marvin shook the handle again.

He rang the doorbell again.

Great, maybe Whizzer wasn’t even home.

But where could he be?

He didn’t have a job anymore!

Thanks to Marvin, that was…

Why was he even here?

What if Whizzer was mad at him?

Of course he would be mad at him!

He should have just asked someone at the Jewish Center for his phone number and called beforehand.

Just as Marvin decided to never listen to Mendel ever again, he heard frantic steps inside the building hurrying down the stairs.

“Hi, sorry! The thingy - the buzzer thing - is broken!” A voice called as the door was opened so suddenly that he lost balance, still holding onto the knob, stumbling against the person behind it.

It wasn’t Whizzer.

In fact it was so far from Whizzer, Marvin asked himself if this was a joke.

The person behind the door was a young, small woman with wild, curly blonde hair. She was wearing a smudged apron, her hands covered in some kind of batter. 

“Hello, uh, sorry, I think I am searching for another person with the same last name as yo-“ Marvin tried, but she didn’t seem to be listening, just signaling him to follow her upstairs.

“Quick, come in! I’ve left the stove on!” she yelled back at him, as she hurried up the steps.

After four flights of stairs and what seemed like an eternity of Marvin just feeling like he was actually going to die and telling himself that he should really start working out, she stopped at a wooden door, pushing it open.

She quickly bustled around the short hallway, running into a room that Marvin guessed was the kitchen. He followed her, still panting as she suddenly started tossing things into his hands, several pots and pans on the stove overflowing and bubbling terribly. 

She quickly started to stir them and lift them off the stove, while handing Marvin more jars of random things.

Marvin just let it happen, still trying to catch his breath, as he looked around.

The kitchen was old.

And tiny.

And mostly, an absolute mess.

The kitchenette was taking up almost all of the space of the room, the rest only a little wooden table with three mismatched chairs, shoved in the corner.

The kitchenette itself consisted of two small cabinets, made out of dark wood that was already very chipped and the worktops were stained and burned in many places. The walls were more or less white with a bunch of stains from what seemed to be different kinds of sauces, which had once been splattered onto it, looking almost like a surrealist painting. 

Mounted to the walls were wooden shelves, looking like they would fall down any moment, completely stuffed with different jars and glasses and dishes and mugs and tins and cans and everything you can possibly think of.

This didn’t seem like the kind of apartment Whizzer Brown would live in.

Marvin took a deep breath.

“Uhm…I am sorry…-“

“Cordelia” she said, glancing over at him, taking the sugar jar out of his hand and dumping about five cups of it into a pot full of noodles.

“Cordelia,” he repeated, nodding, “I am sorry, but I think I am at the wrong address. That is, I am sure I am at the wrong address. I don’t want to disturb you any longer, I’m just gonna-”

“What? Oh, sorry, I just figured you’d be here to see Whizzer,” Cordelia said, now ferociously stirring the pot of sugary pasta. “I just always kinda assume that when some random man turns up at our doorstep,” she explained, chuckling at herself. “Although…that’s probably not the best thing to do, now that I say it out loud. I should really ask first next time…”

Always?

When some random man turns up?

What did that mean?

How many men turned up here?

“What? Whizzer? You mean Whizzer Brown? Does that mean he lives here?” Marvin asked.

“Yeah, he does,” Cordelia frowned, “Do you not know that? That’s weird, then how are you here?”

“It’s a long story”

“With Whizzer it usually is,” she laughed. “Anyway, he’s not home yet, but you can wait if you’d like,” she said, pointing at an open door next to the kitchen table, through which Marvin could make out the outlines of what he guessed was supposed to be a living room.

“Really? Aren’t you afraid I’m going to steal something?” Marvin asked, as he slowly lowered his upper body, trying to put all the things in his arms on the table.

“If you find anything worth stealing in this apartment, please let me know,” she chuckled.

He just nodded awkwardly, shuffling over to the other room.

The living room - if you could even call that - was considerably more tidy than the kitchen, but also much more empty.

There was a grey carpet on the floor, which may have once been white, a long time ago. Two bookshelves stood against the wall, already tilting dangerously, ram-packed with old books and records, which looked like they were either really old or purchased at garage sales, the pages of the books yellow and the covers of the records already scratched and faded out. 

The only thing of at least some value seemed to be an old record player standing on the coffee table in front of an old couch. Next to it lay some fashion magazines Marvin recognized from Trina’s various subscriptions and stacks of magazines which she never even looked at.

Seriously, what was it with this woman, always just mindlessly spending Marvin’s money. 

Opposite to the couch, there was a TV stand, but it had no TV on it. It was empty, only dust and a very old camera standing on it. 

Marvin stepped closer, lifting up the camera, noticing that its lens was cracked, quickly putting it back, so that Cordelia wouldn’t come in and blame him for it. While stepping back, he felt something against his foot, looking down to see about a dozen photos scattered on the floor. He asked himself, if he had knocked something over by accident, but then noticed more photos on the stand. Some were taped to it, some lay on it and some lay on the floor, arranged in a pattern, next to it some loose sheets of paper with notes on them. He couldn't really make out what was on them, from far away they just looked like a bunch of snapshots from streets and houses.

He bend down reaching his hand out for one of the photos, but shot back up again as he heard Cordelia’s voice.

“You want something to drink? To eat? Don’t be shy, I am a really good cook. I have a catering business, you know?” She informed him, peeking into the room with a measuring cup full of what looked like anchovies in her hand.

“No, thank you,” Marvin said. “Looks lovely, though,” he added, because he knew from Trina that people liked to hear that. 

All he wanted was to take a closer look at the photos and at the notes, but knew that would seem incredibly nosy, so he took his jacket off instead, to have something to do.

“Hang it up, will you?” Cordelia asked, “Whizzer hates it when anyone just throws their clothes on the floor, he’s such a drama queen”

“Of course,” Marvin agreed, happy for the excuse to get up and explore more of the apartment. 

He stood up, walking back through the kitchen and then through the door to the narrow hallway, hanging his jacket up on one of the hooks. 

He stopped for a moment, looking around. 

Of course he did.

This is Marvin we are talking about!

On the hooks hang an array of different jackets, Marvin recognizing Whizzer’s brown leather jacket next to a pink, flowery dressing gown, but for some reason there was also a doctor’s coat, and a checkered bowtie. 

What the fuck was going on in this household?!

The hallway had four doors, one to the kitchen and living room, one to which Marvin assumed was a bathroom, because he could see the tiled floor through the open door and two closed ones. 

That was a good sign.

Two rooms meant Whizzer and Cordelia were probably roommates with their own room each.

That, or they were a couple and had an office.

No, that was impossible, Whizzer was gay.

And that man was totally unproductive, what would he need an office for?

Marvin barely used his own office at home!

No, Whizzer and Cordelia wouldn’t be a couple.

She had said that thing about other men coming here!

And how could Whizzer kiss other men, if he had a girlfriend?

But then again, Marvin had a wife.

A wife and a kid.

What if the other door lead to a nursery? 

What if Whizzer and Cordelia had a kid? 

There had been three chairs at the kitchen table, after all. 

What if he was breaking up a family right now and-

He looked around for pictures hanging on the wall, like in his own home: wedding pictures, family portraits. 

On one wall hung a big cork board.

Jackpot.

Marvin stepped closer, examining it with the dedication of the nosy, paranoid man he was.

Okay good, no wedding pictures.

No baby pictures.

In fact, there was only one picture there. It was an old, already pretty faded polaroid picture of Cordelia and Whizzer. 

They looked younger, as people tend to do in old pictures of themselves. 

In the picture, Whizzer and Cordelia sat on the ground, opposite to each other with their legs crossed. Whizzer was leaning forward, face close to her and she had a look of deep concentration on her face, her hand holding a red lipstick, which she was applying onto Whizzer’s lips. 

Wait, what?

No.

Marvin squinted.

That was probably just a crayon, right?

Probably just some stupid carnival stuff or something.

Probably just him working with kids again.

But it didn’t look like a crayon.

It looked like a lipstick.

And he wasn't wearing a costume.

Whizzer was beaming at Cordelia, his lips ruby red, as well as parts of his teeth.

Marvin stared at his face.

He just didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand Whizzer.

He didn’t understand this whole world.

This whole world where people did things that were wrong.

And they didn’t seem to feel guilty about it.

They seemed to be happy.

But how.

How were they happy, if these things were wrong. 

Marvin tried so hard.

Every day, he tried so hard to do everything right.

To act in the right way, to speak in the right way, to be with the right person, to have the right life, and he still wasn't happy.

He was never happy.

Never this happy, as that man on the picture, who was doing something that was wrong, but was still so happy.

Marvin felt a sting in his heart and slowly moved his eyes away from the photo.

There was a pink post-it note pinned on the board. 

“10mg, 4-6h intervals,” it read. 

“78 South River Drive, Brooklyn, NY 11204,” was all another one read, no name or anything, just a little dollar sign drawn next to it. The note was torn at the side and had lots of wrinkles, as if someone had torn it off, crumbled it up and thrown it away several times, before pinning it back there.

As Marvin tried to figure out, if he knew the street, he suddenly heard footsteps from the stairwell.

Fuck.

Quickly, Marvin walked back into the living room and tried to put on a face that looked like he was having the time of his life, just waiting for Whizzer. 

A face that was totally calm.

Totally cool.

Totally not freaking out at all.

He sat back down on the couch as he heard a rather loud bang, followed by a key falling down, being picked up and the door finally being unlocked.

Then, he heard Whizzer’s voice. 

He was laughing.

“Delia! Did you know- Where are you? Delia, did you know that almonds are members of the peach family!” 

Marvin smiled, without realizing it.

“That doesn’t sound right,” he heard Cordelia answer and, through the open door, he could see her smiling at Whizzer.

“It is! It is! I promise!” Whizzer insisted.

He sounded drunk.

He sounded cute.

So extremely cute.

“Okay, but listen, did you know pee glows under a blacklight”

“Everything glows under a blacklight, Whiz-kid”

“Really? Oh my fucking god, this is incredible. Do we have one? I wanna try it out! I think we have one! Do we?”

“We don’t even have a toaster, why would we have a blacklight”

“Charlotte could have it! She has lots of medical shit!”

“Maybe,” Cordelia chuckled again. “I’ll ask her later. I don’t really think you’ll want to look around your room with a blacklight, though. Pretty gross...”

“Yeah, I do! Don’t forget to ask her, okay? Cause I wanna do it! I think it’d be cool! Ask her, okay? Don't forget!”

“I won’t forget”

“Pinky promise?”

“Yes, honey”

“No, you have to do it!” Whizzer whined, and Marvin could see his hand reaching out, Cordelia putting her finger around his.

Maybe now was the right time.

He seemed happy enough.

This would end well.

Marvin was just gonna apologize and everything would be fine.

Marvin stood up, slowly walking over to the kitchen door. 

Actually, he had hoped that Cordelia would introduce him or something, but she seemed to have forgotten about his existence already, so now it was his time to make a move.

As he walked closer to the door, he could finally fully see Whizzer. 

It was surprisingly weird to not see him in his camp counselor getup. He was wearing a black-and-white striped T-shirt and some white pants which he had cuffed at his ankles. His hair was wet for some reason, one stray of hair constantly bouncing in front of his eyes as he talked.

“Uh! Uh! Also ask Char, if she knows Daniel! He’s a doctor too! I’ve met him at the bar! Daniel told me these things with the peaches and stuff! Can you believe them? I can’t! Can you, Daniel?” Whizzer went on, not noticing Marvin who was now standing in the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Well, I told you them, so yes I can,” the man next to Whizzer answered in an adoring tone.

Fuck.

Oh hell no.

Who the fuck?

Tall, muscular, dark hair, blue eyes.

Handsome.

A doctor, apparently.

Maybe he was just helping Whizzer get home.

Except that he seemed to be drunk too.

Whizzer still didn’t see Marvin, his head now turned to the man next to him.

Maybe he was just a friend.

Whizzer pressed his mouth against Daniel’s.

Maybe a French friend, who was used to being greeted that way.

Daniel’s hand was on Whizzer’s butt, his lips wandering to Whizzer’s neck.

Marvin soon realized that the bump he had heard against the door had been their bodies making out against the door.

“Uhm, Whizzer?” Cordelia tried, apparently now noticing that Marvin was still standing there, but he didn’t hear her.

Marvin watched Whizzer pull Daniel towards a door, pushing him through it, Marvin able to hear the springs of a bed squeaking.

“Whizzer!” Cordelia repeated.

“Use the ear plugs I gave you for your birthday!” Whizzer replied, but she took his arm, pulling him back out of the room.

“Give us one second,” she told Daniel, who was indeed now laying on the bed, Cordelia quickly shutting the door on him.

“What’s wrong?” Whizzer asked and Cordelia nodded into Marvin’s direction, Whizzer’s eyes wandering over to him.

“Wait, Marvin?! What are you doing here?” Whizzer frowned, Marvin just able to look at the stray of hair which was still bouncing up and down with Whizzer’s every move.

“I…” Marvin tried, but couldn’t form a sentence. 

His eyes wandered to the closed door with the man on the bed behind it.

“That’s so weird. It’s nice to see you, but it’s really not a great time right now, soo..” Whizzer smiled at him, moving his hands around.

He had the fucking audacity to smile.

To smile while basically sleeping with another man in front of Marvin’s eyes!

Cheating on Marvin!

Well, not really. 

They had never said they were actually…together.

Marvin didn’t even like the thought of them being a couple. 

It sounded too official, too real.

But still!

Whizzer couldn’t just act like this was nothing! 

Like what they had meant nothing!

“I just came to apologize,” Marvin started.

“Apologize? For what?” Whizzer asked and Marvin seriously considered that with entering this house, he had entered a parallel universe.

“For…getting you fired..?!”

Whizzer stared back at him. Now that he was looking at him, Marvin could see that his eyes were glassy and although he was standing still, he was still swaying a little. Whizzer opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“You did what?” he asked.

“Because of my complaint. I just…I am really sorry, Whizzer”

“That was you?”

Oh.

So he didn’t know.

So he hadn’t known the whole time.

So Marvin just confessed all this for nothing.

Great.

“Who did you think it was?” Marvin brought out.

“I don’t know, Mr. Feinstein just told me that someone complained about me. I thought it was Karen!”

“Karen?! Why would it be her, she has never said a single word! If it would be someone, it would have been Linda!”

“Who cares? I don’t know, I just didn’t think it was YOU! Why would you even complain about me? What did I do?! I only helped Jason!”

“I didn’t know that!”

“You could have asked!”

“I asked you and you didn’t tell me!”

“Still, that’s no reason to go cry to my boss about it!” 

“I am sorry, okay?!” Marvin said again.

What more could he do?!

They would have fired Whizzer sometime anyways.

It had been just a stupid little job.

“I’m sorry…” he said again, but he didn't really mean it.

“Whatever…” Whizzer mumbled, still swaying.

And he wanted to leave it at that.

And he wanted to go.

But he just couldn’t.

Because he felt like the bigger betrayal right now was Whizzer’s.

And he felt like he deserved an apology and an explanation as well.

“Who’s that guy in your bedroom?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“That guy…Daniel, was it? Who is that? What’s he doing here?”

“He’s someone I am going to have sex with now,” Whizzer explained, looking pretty fed up with Marvin.

Oh, so he was fed up?!

Marvin was fed up too!

The fucking nerve this guy had!

“Oh, really?! I thought…- I thought we were..-“ Marvin started confidently, but failed to convey his complex thoughts on the situation into words.

“You thought what?” Whizzer asked.

“I just thought…you know”

“What?”

“I thought we…- I thought we two had someth- I thought..”

Whizzer sighed, closing his eyes for a second, but immediately realized that this was a bad idea, putting his hand on the doorframe, to stop himself from falling over. 

“Marvin, I just want to make this clear, okay? You are not my boyfriend. We are not boyfriends”

Marvin shivered at the word. 

Boyfriends.

It sounded wrong.

He didn’t want to be that.

But he still couldn’t look at Whizzer.

“I know that!” he mumbled with less emphasis than he had hoped for

“Good.” 

“It’s just…we know each other. I just thought we had a…connection?” Marvin tried again.

Whizzer looked confused. “But we don’t know each other”

“We do!”

“We don’t, not really. And that’s okay! We don’t have to.”

Marvin got more and more frustrated.

It was like Whizzer just didn’t want to understand. 

“I do know you!” he insisted, desperately trying to get his point across. 

He and Whizzer had something! 

Something that stupid Daniel he had met at the bar, like five minutes ago. 

Maybe even more than Marvin had with Trina!

He searched Whizzer’s face, but only found more confusion on it.

“You don’t know me,” Whizzer answered. “I don’t mean that in an edgy teenager kind of way, Marvin, but you literally know nothing about me! You didn’t even know where I live”

“I know now!”

“That’s not knowing me, that’s called stalking!” 

“Whizzer, why won’t you understand! It’s just that-“

“No, I don’t think you understand me. What we had was nice. Maybe we’ll do it again, maybe not, who knows? I honestly don’t know what you want from me, we didn’t even have sex and you act like we are fucking married!”

"And you act like it was nothing!"

“Marvin, I don’t do this kind of stuff, okay? I don't do this relationship stuff. If you knew anything about me at all, you would know that. Call next time, before coming around,” he said, before walking back into his bedroom, closing the door after himself, the springs of the bed creaking once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so funfact, I wrote this chapter right after I wrote the second chapter and before I had annnyyything planned out for the chapters inbetween, just because I was so excited to finally write Cordelia. However, because of this, I have also completely forgotten where I got this weird af fact about peaches from or if I just made that up, someone pls tell me


	11. What is Normal? I Wouldn't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Marvin continued, he felt Whizzer's lip starting to quiver, the man slowly starting to breathe heavily, as if trying to hold in a whimper.
> 
> Marvin stopped, letting his hand sink.
> 
> “You wanna play a game?” he asked, sitting down for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goD THIS CHAPTERRRRR. It took me like eight drafts and countless tries, but here it is. I hope you guys like it.

Whizzer Brown likes: baseball, shorts, alcohol

Whizzer Brown dislikes: boyfriends, when you don’t hang up your coat properly

Marvin was sitting in his car, parked two streets away from his house.

He stared down at the little notebook he had rested against the steering wheel.

What was Whizzer on about? 

He totally knew him!!

Okay, well, maybe he didn’t quite know as much about him as he had thought.

But that didn’t matter!

What mattered were their feelings for each other!

Well, Marvin’s feelings for him.

Whizzer didn’t seem to feel the same thing.

Marvin sighed.

He didn’t want to go home.

He used to just work overtime and that had worked very well: it had distracted him and kept him away from home.

But he just couldn’t anymore.

He just couldn’t sit there and look at numbers and not think of just going to Greenwich Village.

Or alternatively, not think about just jumping out of the window

He had told Mendel about this.

Well, kinda.

He had just told him that he couldn’t bear the thought of going home after work anymore.

Mendel had told him to every day just go straight home and try to make good memories with his wife and his son and that way he would slowly get excited to go home.

So yeah, Mendel’s advice had been useless as always and Marvin asked himself once again why he even told him about stuff.

So now he went home at 5.

And didn't stay at work longer.

Instead, he stayed in his car till 6.

It was just that it was impossible to make ‘good memories’ at home for Marvin.

Since Whizzer had been fired from the Jewish Center, Jason completely refused to go to camp.

Who could blame him?

So now Jason was staying at home all day, which meant that Trina was at home all day as well and not at her mother’s house or at one of her stupid clubs where all they did anyway was drink wine and talk about their husbands.

Marvin didn’t care if Trina talked about him.

She could do that as much as she liked, as long as she didn’t talk to Marvin.

Sadly, now that she didn't have that outlet anymore, she did.

And she talked to him about him, which was even worse.

Have you made another appointment with the psychiatrist?

What did you talk about?

How are you feeling?

Do you still get these urges to look at those pictures?

How was work today?

Are you okay?

He hated everything.

Every single word that came out of her mouth, he despised.

He didn’t want to talk about it, for fuck’s sake!

Not with a psychiatrist and especially not with her!

He couldn’t even look at her anymore, because all he knew was that she thought about how perverted he was.

And the worst part was that he was.

As usual, he couldn’t get Whizzer out of his head anymore.

And that had been okay for a while.

It had been fine.

Whizzer had touched him back.

And he had thought that they had something.

A connection or some bullshit like that.

But apparently they hadn’t.

So now that had gone to shit as well.

So now, Marvin just sat in his car.

With his notebook.

Writing a list with which he tried to prove to Whizzer that he knew him.

Only to discover that he knew nothing about him.

Great.

-

Home.

What is a home, really.

Home is where the heart is.

At least that’s what people say.

But what if you don’t know where your heart is anymore.

What if your heart is in the wrong place.

Marvin didn’t know where his heart was.

He just knew that it wasn’t here, as he unlocked the door with the big wooden welcome sign on it.

Bullshit.

No one was welcome here.

Least of all, Marvin himself.

“Hey honey, I’m home!” he called over to the kitchen, where Trina usually was, because she liked bullshit like that.

“Shhh!” she said, making him jump, as he saw her sitting on the stairs, already waiting for him. “Where have you been?!” she whispered.

“At work?! I stayed late!” he lied.

“What? Marvin!” 

He frowned, looking at Trina with all the confusion in the world. 

What the hell was wrong with her?

He ‘stayed late’ every fucking day, what was the big deal?

“What’s up?” he asked.

“What’s up? Your son’s birthday, that’s what’s up!” she hissed back.

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

Oh shit. 

He had totally forgotten about that.

To be fair, though, turning 11 is not the most lifechanging event.

Marvin couldn’t even remember his 11th birthday.

He didn’t know anyone that could.

So, no need to make a fuss.

“That’s okay, I haven’t seen him yet today. I’ll just wish him a happy birthday when I see him!” Marvin argued.

Trina sighed deeply. “Marvin. You were supposed to buy the presents.”

“What?! Why would you put me in charge of that?!”

“Because since he refuses to go to camp, I have to stay home with him! I even gave you a list! I told you to go buy them after work and just leave them in the car! Do you really never listen to me?! I’ve told you last week! And the day before yesterday! And yesterday!”

Well, fuck.

He had a vague memory about her telling him something about Jason’s birthday, but he had thought that it was just about what stupid cake she was going to bake, or something.

Really, how could he have known that she would put him in charge of something as important as the fucking presents!

This was her fault!

Surely, she could have found the time to buy them herself!

She had probably done it on purpose, really, so that Jason would hate Marvin even more.

He needed a plan.

Quick.

“I can just go to the shops now and ge- oh, hi, buddy! Happy birthday, son!” Marvin said.

Of course.

Of fucking course, Jason would choose this exact moment to come down the stairs.

Every other day of the week, he didn’t even say hello to Marvin.

There was no big ‘Daddy’s home!’ moment, oh no.

Usually, Marvin was lucky if he got a 'oh, hi' two hours after he had come home and they met in the kitchen, as Jason was getting himself some cereal.

“Thanks, Dad!” the boy said. “Mom made a really cool cake, it has chess pieces out of marzipan on it!”

Aaaand of course now Trina was the hero again

“What? Really? Incredible!” Marvin said, trying to mask his bitterness with enthusiasm.

“Do you have my presents?” Jason asked.

Aha, cutting right to the chase.

So that was why he was here.

He hadn’t wanted to see Marvin.

He just wanted the presents.

Which of course, Trina had told him that Marvin had.

To make Marvin look like the idiot.

“Uh, no.”

“Why?”

“Oh, ehm, I thought it would be much more fun for you to go to the store and pick out your own presents!” Marvin tried, looking at Trina, who he knew that although she had put on a fake smile and was nodding fake enthusiastically at their son, was going to yell at him later.

“Like…we go to the store? Now?” Jason asked, looking very unsure about the whole thing.

“Yeah! It’ll be so awesome, I promise! You can just throw anyyything you want into the cart!”

“Anything?” Jason asked, looking intrigued by the idea.

“Yeah!”

“So there’s no money limit?”

“I mean, maybe with a limit of a hund-“ Marvin started, but stopped as he saw the little sparkle of excitement already leaving Jason’s eyes again. 

“Or sure, with no limit!” he corrected himself, making Jason smile.

“Then let’s go right now!” the boy said, already running to put his shoes on.

Marvin glanced at Trina, whose smile had left her face with Jason disappearing from her sight.

“Making memories?” Marvin tried, but they both knew that he had just fucked up and had been unreliable once again.

-

“And the story is basically that spies for the Rebel Alliance have stolen plans to the Galactic Empire’s Death Star and then Leia – she’s a princess AND the Rebel leader – has the plans, but her ship is captured by Imperial forces under the commander Darth Vader. Leia then sends the plans to an astromech droid, who is called R2-D2, and he flees to the planet Tatooine with another droid, C-3PO”

“Wow, that sounds really interesting,” Marvin said, not having listened to a single word. He was just watching his son toss little figurines of spaceships and robots and people with glowing sticks into the cart, asking himself how much this would cost him and if the love of his child was really worth it.

“And then the droids are captured by traders who want to sell them to Owen and Beru Lars and their nephew Luke Skywalker, but while cleaning R2-D2, Luke accidentally triggers part of Leia’s message, in which she requests help from Obi-Wan Kenobi. And the next morning, suddenly, the droid is missing! And then Luke meets an old hermit, who is called Ben Kenobi and who reveals himself to be Obi-Wan”

“What a great movie,” Marvin said, regretting nothing more in his life, than having asked what film those figurines were from.

“And then Obi-Wan tells Luke of his days as one of the Jedi Knights, who are former Galactic Republic peacekeepers with supernatural powers from something they call ‘The Force’, but they were all wiped out by the Empire! And then Luke learns that his dad fought alongside Obi-Wan as a Jedi”

“How fascinating”

Marvin looked around.

People with shopping carts full of stuff they didn’t need.

“And, get this, Obi-Wan also tells him that Vader was his former pupil who turned to the dark side of the Force and murdered Luke’s father!”

“Mhm”

People with crying kids on their hands, looking around all the time, not wanting them to make a scene.

“And then he gives Luke his father’s old weapon, which is a light saber. Look, Dad, this is it!”

“Cool”

People in suits buying bottles of expensive alcohol.

“Obi-Wan then of course views Leia’s complete message, in which she begs him to take the Death Star plans to her home planet of Alderaan and to give them to her father for analysis! And Obi-Wan tells Luke that he can come with, if he wants to”

“How fun”

People in tracksuits buying bags of chips.

“Yeah! But Luke actually says no, but then he changes his mind after discovering that Imperial stormtroopers have destroyed their farm, killing his aunt and uncle”

“Hm”

People coming in and out the shop.

“So they travel to Mos Eisley where they meet Han Solo, he’s soo cool, he’s a smuggler and his companion is a Wookie named Chewbacca! They then join forces and board the Millennium Falcon!”

“Ah, a giant falcon”

Someone caught Marvin’s eye.

A man.

“No, Dad! It’s a spaceship, the falcon thing is just its name!”

“Mhm”

Marvin squinted his eyes.

He knew that man, but he couldn’t quite see him properly.

“So then the Falcon arrives in Alderaan and they discover that the planet had been destroyed by the Death Star’s superlaser on order of the commanding officer, Grand Moff Tarkin, as a show of power”

“Hm”

His blonde hair was ruffled up a little bit, as well as his clothes, his shirt not properly tucked in and his sleeves carelessly pushed up.

“The Falcon is then captured by the Death Star’s tractor beam and brought into their hangar bay and while Obi-Wan goes to disable the beam, Luke discovers that Leia is imprisoned aboard and rescues her”

“Hmh”

However, the strangest thing about his appearance was that he had his navy handkerchief tied around his face, so that only his eyes were still visible.

“And then they go back to the Falcon and on the way back Obi-Wan engages in a lightsaber duel with Darth Va- oh, look, Dad, there’s Whizzer. Hey Whizzer!”

The man stopped in his tracks, turning around a couple times, before spotting Jason, who was wildly waving his hand in the air.

“Hi, Jason!” Whizzer said, walking up to them, but still not moving his handkerchief away from his mouth. “Oh, eh, happy birthday!” he then added, after a moment. 

“You remembered!”

“Yeah, obviously”

“My Dad didn’t even remember!”

“I did too!” Marvin disagreed.

“Did not!” Jason insisted.

Marvin sighed, giving in and looking at Whizzer. “Hi Whizzer…”

“Hello Marvin, how are you?” Whizzer asked, but already shifted, as though he just wanted to get on.

“What’s with the handkerchief?” Marvin asked.

“Oh, nothing, just trying something new”

“You look like you’re in a gang!” Jason said.

“Is that cool?”

“Kinda!”

Whizzer smiled.

Or, at least Marvin guessed so from the crinkles that formed around his eyes.

“Jason, what do you think about this?” Trina asked, peeking around the corner, holding up a blue shirt.

“I don’t want clothes for my birthday!” Jason disagreed, while Trina spotted Whizzer.

“Oh, hello Whizzer!” she said with an honest smile. “Oh, I like the handkerchief, is that a new thing that’s en vogue now?”

En vogue.

Marvin wanted to throw up.

He hated it when she talked like that.

She read like one fashion magazine a year, who did she think she was?!

Trina liked Whizzer.

Actually, she never shut up about it.

Marvin knew because those times had been the only times he actually listened to what she was saying.

She liked how Jason talked of Whizzer like a friend.

She liked how Whizzer looked.

She liked how Whizzer dressed.

She had often talked to Whizzer when she had picked Jason up.

She had told him that all the moms loved Whizzer.

They all thought that Whizzer was the biggest womanizer ever.

And the sweetest person ever.

'His girlfriend must be so lucky,' Trina had once said.

They all had no idea.

Jason was talking to Whizzer again.

Probably still about this Space Battle thing, or whatever it’s called.

Suddenly, Trina leaned over to Marvin, pulling him away a little.

“I actually didn’t want to do it today, but now that Whizzer is here, I think this might be a good time, to talk about it,” she whispered.

Huh?

What was happening?

“Talk?”

“Yes, to Jason. About everything?”

“About…what?”

“About him needing to see a psychiatrist!”

What?

First she was dragging Marvin to a psychiatrist, now Jason…?!

Maybe she should think about why they needed one in the first place.

Because of her!

She also acted like they had talked about this before!

They hadn’t!

Well, maybe they had.

Marvin never really listened when she was talking to him.

“Jason doesn’t need a psychiatrist!” Marvin hissed, not even bothering to play the happy couple, glancing at Whizzer.

“Yes, he does! He is lonely, Marvin! It is his birthday and he is here with us! I didn't even know who to invite to a party, all he does all day anymore is play chess against himself. I can’t even get him to go outside anymore!” Trina whispered back, not willing to drop the fake smile yet.

“You say that like it’s something new”

“That’s exactly why we should do something about it! We can’t just let this go on forever, it’s more than a phase, he needs help! Going to Dr. Mendel has helped you, so why wouldn’t it help Jason too? I think that Whizzer could really help us convince him, Jason trusts him”

“He didn’t help me!”

“You said you were feeling much better!”

Oh.

Yeah.

Sometimes he forgot he had to lie about this shit.

“Yeah, okay,” Marvin sighed. “Just make Whizzer tell him to go,” he gave in.

“Oh, and Marvin, another thing,” Trina started, stopping him from walking back to the others.

“I just wanted to talk to you for a second,” she said, lowering her voice.

“Truth is, I wanted to talk to you about Whizzer for some time now…” she said.

So she knew about their kiss after all?

This whole situation had gotten way too confusing.

“Huh” 

“I just wanted to talk to you because of you and him, you know?”

Marvin frowned. “Okay?”

“It’s just that…let’s be honest here, you don’t have a lot of friends”

“I do!”

“Name one person you are friends with”

“Jeremy Baver!”

“You haven’t talked to Jeremy since college”

“George Fedele”

“Who is that?”

“Guy from work”

“No, it’s not”

“Okay, fine! Maybe I don’t have a ton of friends, nobody at our age does, it’s not kindergarten,” Marvin snapped.

“Marvin, I am just saying, I thought maybe you’d want to get better friends with Whizzer! You two seemed to get along on Jason’s trip and Dr. Mendel said it would be good for you to have a friend!”

“When did you talk to Mendel?!”

“On the phone, when I asked him about advice about Jason!”

“Are you guys fighting again?” Jason interrupted. “Are you fighting about me? Don’t lie, I heard you say my name!”

Trina took a deep breath, walking back to them. “We are not fighting about you, sweetie. But we ARE a little worried,” she told Jason.

Need more friends? 

This Mendel was such an idiot.

He doubted Mendel had even one friend.

Mendel wasn’t even married!

Mendel didn’t have a child!

Marvin was miles ahead of him!

“It’s just that you play chess alone in your room a lot, and I think you even like it that way,” Trina started.

“Yeah, I do! It’s fun!” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Jason, listen to me, okay? No one says that you’re a neurotic or anything like that but Daddy and I would really like you to see a psychiatrist"

“What? No!”

Trina looked at Marvin for help. “Uh, Jason, come on, it’s just a psychiatrist! Just try it out!” he tried.

“I will not!”

“It’s a really great psychiatrist, Jason, he is very smart! You’d like him,” Trina pleaded, trying a new tactic.

“Yeah? Is he?” Jason mocked his mother. “If intelligence is so important then why do I have to go?! It’s just because you two completely failed as parents!”

Trina stared at Jason.

Marvin stared at Jason.

Maybe they had.

Maybe they had failed as parents.

“Jason, you are going to a psychiatrist!” Trina snapped.

She had the right to snap.

Marvin didn’t think he did.

Maybe just he had failed as a parent.

After all, he was the one with no friends and he was the one going to a psychiatrist.

The apple and the tree.

“Jason, you know, I went to a psychiatrist when I was younger,” Whizzer suddenly intersected, breaking the silence.

“You’re just making that up!”

“I am not, I promise”

“So, you really think I should go?”

“Yeah, just try it out”

Jason sighed. “Okay, I’ll go…” he gave in, making Trina smile.

“That’s awesome, sweetheart!”

Marvin rolled his eyes.

He didn’t want Mendel near his family.

He didn’t want Mendel to talk to his son, now that he thought about it.

He looked over at Whizzer, trying to imagine him as a kid.

As an unpopular kid, even.

He couldn’t.

He had probably lied about the whole thing to make Jason go.

Whizzer was just the person for that, lying and teasing people.

“So, uhm, this was lovely, but I have to go,” Whizzer said. “Jason, you have a great rest of your birthday, okay?”

“Okay, Whizzer!”

“Okay, bye”

-

Go?

Go where?

Especially with that stupid thing around his mouth?!

Was he going to a gang meeting?

To rob a bank?

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Marvin told Trina, but she didn’t even listen anymore, back to picking out shirts for Jason.

Marvin followed Whizzer.

That bastard didn’t even head for the door, but just headed further into the store, passing food aisles and clothing aisles and stationary aisles, before he made a turn, walking into a restroom.

Oh.

Cool.

So for once, Marvin actually hadn’t technically lied to his wife.

That was new.

Marvin waited for a moment, before entering the restroom after Whizzer, closing the door as quietly as possible.

He found Whizzer standing in front of the large mirror. 

The man was balancing on his tip toes, leaning over the counter, so that his face was as close to the mirror as possible. He didn’t notice Marvin coming in, consumed in staring at his reflection and balancing on his tip toes, his fingers slowly pushing the handkerchief down to his neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” Marvin blurted out, at the sight, Whizzer wincing and almost losing balance, able to catch himself with his hands on the sink. 

“What happened?!” Marvin asked, stepping closer.

“Nothing,” Whizzer answered, turning back to the mirror. “Go away, Marvin.”

The part of Whizzer’s face the handkerchief had covered was covered in blood.

Whizzer’s nose was bleeding, the space between his lips and his mouth completely stained with dried blood.

The worst thing, however, seemed to be his lip. 

It was busted at the lower left corner, like a cut going through it.

Whizzer was still looking in the mirror, wiping his sleeve over the blood under his nose, but letting out a quiet whimper, as he accidentally brushed it over the cut on his lip. 

Marvin put his hand around his wrist, pulling him back from the mirror.

“You need to go to the hospital,” he told him.

“No, I don’t! It’s not that bad!”

“It really is. Why are you even here?! What did you come to Target for?! The hospital is like two streets away!”

“I don’t need to go to the fucking hospital, okay?! I can just wash it off here,” Whizzer insisted, trying to turn back to the mirror, but Marvin didn’t let him, still holding on to his arm.

Whizzer was such a jerk.

He was so fucking rude.

And such a moron for not just going to the hospital, which was literally right there, just two streets over.

Marvin counted to ten.

“Okay, come on,” he said, guiding Whizzer to a cubicle and making him sit down on the closed toilet lid. He then walked back to the sink, wetting a paper towel, before walking back to the cubicle, closing the door and kneeling down in front of the other man.

“Kinky,” Whizzer noted.

“Shut up, I just don’t want people to come in and get the wrong idea”

“Yeah, because they totally won’t, when they see the feet of two men in a closed cubicle”

“Whatever,” Marvin sighed, starting to carefully wipe away the blood on Whizzer’s face.

“I could do that myself,” Whizzer informed him.

“Yeah, I saw THAT”

They were silent for a while, Marvin just concentrating on his task, feeling Whizzer watch him.

“Thanks, Marvin…” he said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marvin answered. 

Oh, how the tables had turned.

It was kind of romantic, really.

How when they had first met, Whizzer had found Marvin looking like this.

And now Marvin had found Whizzer looking like this.

Ok, maybe it wasn’t really that romantic.

Maybe it just showed how fucked up they both were.

How fucked up both of their lives were.

Marvin wanted to tell Whizzer that he had been an idiot.

Such a fucking idiot, that night he had refused to let Whizzer help him.

He wanted to tell Whizzer that he was sorry he had made him lose his job.

He wanted Whizzer that apparently he made one bad choice after the other and he was sorry about it.

He didn’t say anything, just continuing to clean the blood off.

Just softly rubbing the paper towel against Whizzer’s skin.

His hand sometimes brushing against his face.

“I have to do the lip now,” he said as he had finished washing away the blood around Whizzer’s nose and on his philtrum.

Yes, that’s what the space between your upper lip and your nose is called.

Look it up.

“I’ll be fine! Just do it,” Whizzer said, Marvin shuffling a little closer.

He was now kneeling right in between Whizzer’s legs, both of their upper bodies almost touching, while Marvin’s head was slightly under Whizzer’s, his hand now carefully starting to dab the man’s lip with the wet paper towel.

It must hurt.

It must hurt a lot.

It was an open wound which Marvin was attacking with a freaking low-quality, public bathroom, one-ply paper towel.

But Whizzer didn’t make a sound.

His eyes were fixed on the light above them, and Marvin could see his hand clenching, his whole body completely tense. As Marvin continued, he felt Whizzer's lip starting to quiver, the man slowly starting to breathe heavily, as if trying to hold in a whimper.

Marvin stopped, letting his hand sink.

“You wanna play a game?” he asked, leaning back and sitting down on the dirty tiles for a moment. 

He had done this kind of thing with Jason before, having to distract a child while working on their boo-boos.

And this one was one big big boo-boo.

“A game?” Whizzer asked.

“Mhm”

“What kind of game?”

“I don’t know. You know ’20 questions’?”

“Yeah, it’s lame”

“No, it’s not! You said yourself that I don’t know you at all! So in this game, I ask you twenty questions and you answer them truthfully!”

“This is not how the game works at all”

“It isn’t?”

“No”

“Can we still do it?”

“This is not a game, this is a police interview! I’m not answering twenty questions about myself!”

“Fifteen?”

“I’ll answer three”

“Three? Come on, ten!”

“Five”

“Okay, fine,” Marvin gave in, sitting back up onto his knees. 

“I need rubbing alcohol or something,” he said then. “I don’t think water’s gonna get us very far with this.”

“Hang on,” Whizzer answered, reaching down into his backpack and pulling out an unopened vodka bottle.

“What the fuck, Whizzer,” Marvin sighed, as Whizzer handed it over.

“Use your stupid five questions about it, I don’t give a fuck,” Whizzer chuckled, while Marvin rolled his eyes at him.

He had no idea if this was even going to work, but he didn’t want Whizzer to know, so he just confidently opened the bottle and put some alcohol onto a new paper towel.

He did, however, know one thing for certain:

“This is going to hurt,” Marvin said.

Whizzer pressed his eyes shut, the first time that Marvin touched his lip with the towel, this time actually letting out an involuntary whimper. 

“I’m sorry,” Marvin said, as he continued cleaning it.

Whizzer didn’t answer, moving his face away, out of a reflex, but Marvin had put his hand on his chin, softly holding him still.

“So, Whizzer, let’s play,” he tried to distract him. “Did you really go to therapy or did you just say that to make Jason go?” he asked, because he thought it would make Whizzer laugh and admit that he had just lied to the kid and that therapy was for losers like Marvin.

“No, I really went,” Whizzer answered, his hand now clenched around Marvin’s arm. Marvin tried to ignore the pain that brought him, cursing himself for having asked such a question and preparing himself for more short answers from Whizzer.

“I uhm-“ Whizzer went on, to his surprise. “I always had extreme problems concentrating on things. I would just go from one task to another, never finish anything, always having to touch everything, always fidgeting, always talking, always forgetting stuff. I was just…I don’t know, overwhelmed all the time, by all the things I thought I needed to do immediately and lose track of the things I did before I started a new thing. I would always get so frustrated and I could never sleep. Then, my parents took me to a therap- ouch, fuck”

“Sorry!”

“Th- they took me to a therapist. ADHD, that dude said. I got some pills. They help a lot. I still have to take them, or else I go crazy. So that’s that,” Whizzer closed, Marvin feeling him wanting to look down, before he apparently realized that Marvin was still holding his head still. 

So instead, Whizzer’s eyes shifted back to the light, looking like he realized he had just revealed way too much about himself.

“Did you grow up in New York?” Marvin asked.

“No, the Midwest.”

“Oh, Jesus”

Marvin’s reaction actually made Whizzer smile a tiny bit. “It wasn’t that bad!” he assured him.

“Then why did you come to New York?” Marvin teased.

“That’s a looong story”

“Cordelia told me that with you, it usually is”

“She’s right”

“When did you leave home?”

“Fifteen”

“You’re kidding”

“I’m not”

“You went to college at age fifteen?!”

Whizzer stared at him, before starting to laugh, making Marvin have to take both his hands away from his face.

Marvin didn’t understand what was so funny.

You finish school, you go to college.

That’s how life goes!

That’s what everybody Marvin knew did!

“Yeah, sure, let’s say I went to college! At age fifteen. In New York,” Whizzer laughed. “That’s a much nicer story, anyway.”

“What was the real story?”

“Way more depressing, that’s for sure”

“But you did finish high school, right?”

“Marvin, please! How can you ask me that?! I worked as a camp counsellor, do you really think I could have gotten that high and prestigious position if I had no higher education?! If I had just dropped out of school and ran away to New York?! Oh, no way!”

“No, come on, you can't be serious! How would a kid get by in the city?! How would a kid earn money?”

“Honey, you don’t wanna know”

Marvin sighed, putting his hand back on Whizzer’s chin and cleaning the last bit of his wound.

Whizzer couldn't be serious.

There was no way.

“I think I’m done,” he said, before reaching out again, his thumb softly touching Whizzer’s lip. “You might actually need stitches, though.”

“I’ll be fine”

“So you keep telling me,” Marvin said, before he remembered something. “Hold on,” he mumbled, reaching into his front pocket.

It wasn’t there.

He searched in his other pocket.

Not there either.

Back pocket.

Ahhh.

He pulled out a plaster he had once put in his pocket when he went hiking with Jason.

Well, ‘hiking’.

In quotation marks.

More like for a walk in the park.

But you never fucking knew with this kid.

It had little pictures of little cartoon bees on it, but it was better than leaving a wound open.

Marvin smiled apologetically at Whizzer, softly placing it on his face, so that it covered at least part of the lip.

“There we go. All better,” Marvin joked, as he held it in place for the glue to stick.

“Yes, all better,” Whizzer smiled, leaning forward and kissing him.

Marvin could feel the soft plastic of the plaster rubbing against his lips and cheek.

He could feel Whizzer’s still shaky hand, still holding onto his arm.

He could feel the dampness of his philtrum.

He could feel Whizzer pull away again, just resting his forehead against Marvin's for a moment.

“Does it hurt? I mean kissing?” Marvin asked, his voice quiet, since their faces were so close.

“A little bit,” Whizzer answered, breathing out, before placing another peck on Marvin’s lips, almost as if he was doing a test. “Yeah, a lot,” he corrected himself.

At that, Marvin sighed, standing back up. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he said, reaching his hand out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so, I am sorry for just having made you read literally more than two thirds of the entire plot of the first Star Wars movie, but ever since I've learned that it came out in 1977, I have been DYING to include it in the fic to make our lord and saviour Christian Borle proud. Also, I think Jason would be SO into this geeky kind of shit, I love this child so muCH.


	12. Homosexuals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do know how to have fun! I have fun all the time! I like to solve the New York Times crossword puzzle!” Marvin insisted.  
> “That is the straightest, saddest thing I have ever heard in my life," Whizzer answered dramatically. "But don’t you worry. Tonight I will sacrifice myself and teach you how to have actual fun! Homosexual people fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter everyone, including Marvin himself, has been waiting for. The chapter in which Marvin FINALLY FUCKING LEARNS that gay sex does nOT involve beating each other up. Enjoy.

Convincing his son and wife that he would just leave them at the store and bring Whizzer home on his son’s actual fucking birthday was surprisingly easy.

Almost too easy, really.

Concerningly easy.

The second they saw Whizzer come back with the band-aid on his lip, they were already telling Marvin to take him home, and as Marvin left them his credit card and car keys, they were basically gone already, Trina in the home decoration and Jason in the toy aisle. 

This probably shouldn’t happen?

They should probably not want him to leave?

Like maybe just pretend they couldn’t have fun without him?

Just for like a minute?

Honestly, Trina even looked happier when he announced that he was leaving with Whizzer.

Probably also because of that whole ‘you should make friends’ thing.

And probably also because with his bruise Whizzer looked like the most badass womanizer.

Maybe Trina thought Whizzer would inspire him and give him tips about the ladies.

Well…

As long as she just let Marvin do whatever he wanted, he didn’t care what she thought.

“So you’re still not gonna tell me what happened with your face?” Marvin asked Whizzer, as they walked down 42nd Street, trying to fight their way through the never-ending stream of tourists.

“It’s really not that interesting,” Whizzer answered, dodging not only the question but also a very suspicious person in what seemed to be supposed to be a Micky Mouse suit, trying to get people to take pictures with them.

“I still want to know!” Marvin insisted, as Whizzer was back next to him.

“You’re too nosy”

“And you act like everything in your life is a secret”

“Oh, and you don’t?” Whizzer chuckled, raising his eyebrows.

“Not with you, I don’t,” Marvin answered.

That was a lie. 

Of course, he would never tell Whizzer any embarrassing things from his life.

Or any too personal things.

Or anything about Trina, really.

Or anything about his life with Trina and their wedding and their life together.

That would just be weird.

Whizzer didn’t need to know about all this stuff.

But that was different!

Not wanting to talk about your life with your wife to your affair is different!

They were quiet for a while, just walking down the streets, away from all the Times Square craziness and into the suburban areas, through the soft breeze of a summer/ early fall evening.

It was beautiful.

The leaves on the trees slowly turning into a beautiful auburn.

The street lights slowly being turned on, while the sun was still setting behind the Hudson river.

People sitting on their front stoops, waiting to be picked up by someone, or just talking, or just enjoying the evening sun.

Marvin didn’t give a fuck about any of this.

He didn’t really notice any of this.

It was just New York.

He had seen this kind of thing every damn day of his life.

He didn’t care.

He just had one thought on his mind.

What if the bruises came from Whizzer having sex?

Like…the gay sex thing the interns had talked about?

The beating up stuff?

Marvin still didn’t know how else it would work, it was still his only point to hang on to.

And now Whizzer turned up like this.

And that guy DID have sex, apparently.

With guys named Daniel, who were doctors or some shit.

What kind of doctor even does this beating up kind of shit?!

That’s kinda fucked up, if you think about it.

It was the only thing that made sense, though.

The bruises had to come from this.

That was the reason why Whizzer didn’t want to say.

It made total sense.

Which was bad.

Because that meant that it was real.

And Marvin didn’t want to do this.

Which meant that Marvin wasn’t gay?

But he still wanted to be with Whizzer.

“Everything is always so complicated,” Marvin mumbled, without even realizing that he had just said that out loud.

“What do you mean?” Whizzer asked.

“What?”

“You just said that everything’s complicated. It’s not, though”

“It is.”

“You mean like being a homosexual?”

“I’m not a homosexual”

“I didn’t say you were”

“You implied it”

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “Being a homosexual is great!” he announced then.

“How can you even say that?! It fucking sucks! You got fired because of it!”

“That’s not being gay that sucks, that’s just other people being arseholes”

Marvin shrugged, “I don’t know…” he said. “It’s just that it’s not exactly fun.”

“That’s all on you, my friend. You don’t know how to have fun, not even as a straight person.”

“I do! I have fun all the time!”

“Name one thing you do that’s fun”

“I like to solve the New York Times crossword puzzle!”

“That is the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life”

“It IS fun! Just because YOU wouldn’t even get past 1A across! Last week it was what a theorem that relates the three sides of a triangle is called with 18 fucking letters! It was the pythagoreantheorem, I knew it instantly”

“Yeah, the argument you're trying to make really isn’t as convincing as you think it is,” Whizzer said, before stopping in his tracks and taking a theatrical breath, as he made a dramatic pause. “But don’t you worry, Marvin. I will sacrifice myself and teach you how to have actual fun,” he announced, solemnly nodding to himself.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Marvin asked, but Whizzer was already walking again, determinedly heading into an alley. 

“Whizzer, I was supposed to take you home!” he argued, walking after him. 

“Fuck home! It’s time to start living, Marvin!” Whizzer called back, taking a right turn and making his way towards a building. Marvin anxiously followed him, ready to turn back as he saw the big neon sign and the queue of teenagers in their best bellbottoms and flowery button-ups. 

Oh no.

He was not going into a fucking night-club.

It was Tuesday, for fuck’s sake!

He shook his head at Whizzer, but the man just waved Marvin to come closer.

“No way!” he told him, as he had reached him.

“Yes way!” Whizzer insisted. “Trust me. Just today, you trust me! I am doing this for YOU, okay?” he begged, tugging at his arm.

Fuck.

He didn’t want to.

He kinda did owe him, though, for not trusting him on that trip.

“Okay, but I just don’t think I would fit in with-“ Marvin protested, but Whizzer shushed him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, now pulling Marvin towards the door at the front of the line.

“What are you doing?! We can’t just cut the line, Whizzer!”

“Oh, no, no, no, we don’t wait in line,” he said. “This is lesson number one, pay attention,” he added, as he simply walked up to the front of the line.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” the guy at the front of the queue, a kid that looked around 21, protested. 

“Oh, sorry, is this not the end of the line?” Whizzer asked innocently.

Okay, this was the single most dumbest question anyone could ever ask, Marvin thought.

Who the fucking hell would fall for this?!

Of course this wasn’t the fucking end of the line, anyone with half a brain could see that.

Whizzer would never get away with this, they would get send away and maybe beat up.

But maybe Whizzer wanted to get beat up…?

Was this how it went?!

Marvin frowned at Whizzer, who was still smiling innocently at the kid.

“Uh, no it’s not,” the guy in the queue answered. “This is the front, the end of the line’s back there.”

Well, okay.

He didn’t seem to want to beat them up, at least.

But he was also not letting them cut.

“Oh, huh, then I’ll guess I’ll just go home again… I don’t really feel like waiting for this long,” Whizzer said, turning around.

Oh thank God!

Were they going to go home now?

“That’s a shame, I was looking forward to seeing you inside…” Whizzer said then, giving the guy a sad smile.

Ahhhh.

So that was the plan.

It seemed to work, the kid’s eyes widening.

“No! No, don’t go! Don’t go! You can just cut in front of me!” he said hastily. 

“Oh, thanks!” Whizzer grinned. “See you inside!” he said then, quickly pulling Marvin inside with him, while just waving hello at the bouncer, who just let them through with a chuckle.

“Whizzer, you HAVE to stop ripping off the lil' twinks!” he scolded him, as they walked by.

“I’ll stop when they stop making it so easy,” Whizzer replied, smiling back at him.

They walked to the bar, where the barkeeper was already walking up to them, smiling and shaking his head. 

Did Whizzer know every single fucking person here?!

This was ridiculous, who the fuck knows so many people?

People over a certain age shouldn't have so many aquaintances. You have your family and neighbors that you talk to every couple of weeks when you mow your lawn and they see you. 

That's called being an adult!

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in! The mighty Whizzer Brown, gracing us with his presence! ” the barkeeper said, but had smile on his face. 

“Very funny, Iain,” Whizzer replied. “Sorry, there was too much drama going on in here, had to stay away for a minute”

“And whose fault exactly is that? Anyway, as if drama has ever held you back from coming here”

“Well…I also had a job for a while”

“That’s not the Whizzer Brown I know,” the man said, but still smiled fondly. “What happened to your lip?”

“More drama”

“Yeah, THAT'S the Whizzer Brown I know!” he laughed, then pointed at Marvin. “Who’s your friend? Don’t tell me you got yourself a sugar daddy and didn’t get me one as well!” 

What the fuck was a sugar daddy?

It didn’t sound good.

“I wish! No, that’s Marvin, I’m showing him how to be gay!” Whizzer answered, making Marvin blush. 

“I’m not gay,” he said immediately, making the barkeeper chuckle. 

“Sure, honey, neither am I,” he said mockingly. “Or anybody here, for that matter.”

“Make him a Dirty Shirley Temple on the Rocks, please,” Whizzer said, sitting down on a barstool.

“Well, that’ll teach him somethin’ about being gay, that’s for sure”

Whizzer chuckled, smiling at Marvin, with a calm expression on his face. Then, he reached his hand out, loosening Marvin’s tie and unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. 

“That’s better,” he decided. “The tie is still horrendous, though.” 

“It isn’t THAT bad…”

“I want to burn it and then burry all the different pieces all around the world, so that no one would ever be able to piece them back together”

“It’s just clothes, who cares”

“Clothes are important”

“Maybe as a homosexual…”

“Well, you are one”

“I am not.”

“Why? I’m telling you, it’s fun!”

“And I’m telling you, it’s not! What exactly is supposed to be fun about it?! Getting drunk, taking drugs and sleeping with some guy you’ve met two minutes ago? That isn’t fun, not to me, at least”

“You think that’s all there is to being gay? You think I can’t have fun without getting drunk?!”

“Not really, no”

“I can have fun when I’m sober! I’m not drunk that often anyway!”

“I literally just disinfected your lip with a bottle of vodka from your backpack half an hour ago”

“It was unopened, wasn’t it?”

“Still”

“Pft, watch me!” Whizzer shrugged, as the barkeeper came back with the drink. “Ah, thanks! And one water for me, please, Iain,” Whizzer said demonstratingly, before taking the cocktail and setting it down in front of Marvin.

“Drink up!”

“I’m not drinking that”

“And why is that?”

“It’s pink!”

“Oh, Lord have mercy. Marvin, please leave your fragile masculinity at the front door of the gay bar. Just fucking drink the drink!”

“So you’re going to stay sober, but get me drunk?”

“That’s the plan,” Whizzer agreed.

“Works for me”

Marvin took a sip off the cocktail. 

It tasted like ginger ale mixed with cherries. 

Mostly, it just tasted like a ton of vodka. 

Weirdly, he liked it.

“So, the Midwest, huh?” he asked.

“What?”

“You said you grew up in the Midwest. Which state?”

“Oh god, are we still playing that stupid game? You’ve used up your five questions big time by now”

“Come on! I’m just making conversation!”

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “Nebraska,” he gave in, while taking his water from Iain, who had put a little pink umbrella in it.

“Nebraska?! There’s no way you’re from Nebraska and your parents named you something like Whizzer. It’s way too boring there! Come on, what’s your real name?”

Whizzer shifted, ignoring the question. “It’s not boring! Well, I mean there’s lots of baseball and corn. Just…so, so much corn,” he shrugged. “You wouldn’t know, though, would you. You clearly grew up in New York City.”

“How can you tell?”

“You’re spoiled,” Whizzer teased. “I’ve met lots of men like you.”

“Oh?” Marvin mumbled, not being able to not feel hurt by that comment. “Like Daniel?”

“Who the hell is Daniel?” Whizzer asked, but it didn’t sound quite as convincing as he had probably intended, the man’s eyes avoiding Marvin’s.

“You slept with him..? I was in your apartment? You yelled at me?” Marvin explained, although he knew that Whizzer knew who he was talking about.

“I didn’t yell at you!”

“You kinda did”

“You deserved it.”

“I guess. But still, was what with that Daniel?”

“What about him?” 

“He’s not your boyfriend now or anything, right?”

Whizzer shook his head, “Marvin, I told you. I don’t do that kind of thing. It’s sex and then bye bye. No cuddling, no sleeping over, no breakfast.”

“Ah,” Marvin mumbled, but didn’t really listen, feeling the alcohol slowly leaving a comforting, numbing feeling inside of himself. 

He watched the other man’s face illuminated only by the bright pink lights that were flickering around. 

He looked so pretty.

Or handsome.

Or whatever.

He just looked nice.

He smiled at him.

Whizzer smiled back, “Let’s dance!” he decided.

“Definitely not!”

“Please!”

“Yeah, I don’t dance, Whizzer.”

“You do today! Your gay side LOVES dancing!,” Whizzer urged, starting to make some weird up and down movements that seemed to resemble dancing.

Marvin didn’t know the song.

Of course he didn’t.

Did you honestly expect him to?

He also didn’t like it.

Of course.

Whizzer, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind. He got up, still holding the, now half empty (or half full, I don't care whichever way you wanna look at it), glass of water in his hand, Marvin just watching it threatening to spill every second.

“Come on! Come on!” Whizzer begged.

“No, Whizzer. No way!” he insisted, looking around at the people around them, jumping around and grinding on each other and doing other things that weren’t really dancing at all.

In no way in hell was he going to do that, not even with all the vodka in the world running through his venes.

“What if people see?” he added, when Whizzer gave him another pleading look, now starting to dance around his stool.

“Don’t you get it?! Anybody who sees you in here has a lot to answer for for themselves,” Whizzer argued.

That was true.

And nobody seemed to care.

Just a bunch of drunk people, doing weird moves, too concerned with themselves to care for an uptight sexually confuses dad at the bar, in the corner.

For a moment – and he didn’t know if this was the alcohol talking - he just kinda wanted to be one of them.

Just being stupid and careless.

He moved his eyes away from the glass in Whizzer’s hand, watching him still dancing around.

He looked ridiculous.

His eyes were closed, as he was mouthing the words to the song, moving his arms up and down and moving his legs around and walking around in circles.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Absolutely stunning.

He reached his hand out, carefully taking the glass out of Whizzer’s hand and setting it down on the counter. 

Whizzer opened his eyes, smiling. 

Then, he took Whizzer’s hand again.

Marvin didn’t really know what to do, just jumping with Whizzer, still feeling uncomfortable. 

Whizzer, however, looked incredibly comfortable.

He started to dance again, laughing at Marvin, while still singing to the song.

Okay, he HAD to be drunk.

No one is this happy when sober.

Marvin searched his eyes for any glassiness or any sign of intoxication, but they were totally clear.

There was just pure joy in them.

He felt Whizzer put his hand around his waist, and take his hand, starting to dance a really bad foxtrot.

The only dance lessons Marvin had ever had were the two hours he had had before his Bar Mitzvah and one hour before his wedding and still he knew that whatever Whizzer was doing was totally wrong.

“That’s not how it goes!” he tried to tell him, having to yell because of the loud music.

“What?” Whizzer yelled back.

“This is not how you dance the f-“ Marvin yelled back, “You have to – move your foot to the ri – no, you gotta –“ he tried, but gave in.

Whizzer pulled him closer to himself, still smiling brightly. He put his cheek against Marvin’s, “Just let it go,” he said into his ear.

What?

He couldn’t let it go!

This wasn’t the right way!

You have to do things the right way!

He sighed quietly, looking at Whizzer again, who had one hand in Marvin’s and the other around his waist. He was still moving both of their bodies, still singing as he lifted his arm, doing a twirl, making Marvin laugh.

Maybe this was okay.

Maybe this was completely silly.

But maybe it was still okay.

Whizzer looked so happy.

Marvin wanted to be happy.

He smiled at Whizzer, this time twirling himself, earning an enthusiastic applause by the other man.

He didn’t exactly know if he was happy at that moment.

If he was as happy as Whizzer.

But he knew that it felt right.

It felt as right as jumping around in a circle with this stupid, happy idiot could.

-

“Hey, listen to me! Marvin, you cannot go home like this!”

“I HAVE to go home, though! She’ll worry!”

“She’ll worry more when she sees you coming back home blackout drunk!” Whizzer argued.

They were standing in front of Whizzer’s apartment complex, Marvin leaned against the brick wall, Whizzer’s hands on his sides to hold him steady. 

Marvin guessed that it had to be around 4am, but he honestly had no clue. 

He didn’t feel like he knew much at all right now, the alcohol still buzzing through his body.

There had been one pink cocktail.

And then a purple one.

And then a blue one.

Marvin felt like he had drunk himself through a whole rainbow.

“Come upstairs, I’ll give you a coffee to sober up,” Whizzer offered and didn’t even wait for a reply, already unlocking the door and helping Marvin up the stairs.

“Those are a loooot of stairs,” Marvin told him, making him chuckle.

“Great detective work”

Whizzer pushed open his apartment door, guiding Marvin inside. 

“So…coffee?” Marvin asked.

“No, I lied,” Whizzer said, their mouths already crashing together.

Marvin watched Whizzer press his eyes together at the pain in his lip, while trying to to reach for the door to close it, but in a sudden rush of adrenaline, Marvin turned them around, pressing Whizzer against the wall. 

His goal was to push Whizzer up so that he could wrap his legs around his chest and he could carry him to the bedroom. 

You know, like a real man.

Needless to say, it didn’t exactly work out. 

Whizzer put his hand on Marvin’s back for support, being lifted about two inches in the air, before Marvin got so drowsy, that he tipped over.

They still got to the bed somehow, Marvin still on top, pushing Whizzer down. 

Whizzer took off Marvin’s shirt and then his pants with steady, sober hands, while Marvin’s were shaky and nervous.

Partly because he was drunk.

Mostly because he was actually terrified.

When both of their clothes were off, Marvin just stared down at Whizzer. 

Whizzer was looking back at him with clear eyes and a soft, present smile.

God, he wished he had gotten him drunk.

“I…uh…” Marvin tried to form a sentence, as his hands just hovered over their bodies. He realized, he had no clue what to do next. Did he have to beat Whizzer up? Did they have to put on a dress? Was that even how they did it?

“Hm?” Whizzer asked, playing with the waistband of his underwear, running his fingertips over it, like the last time in the shed.

But that time they had both been dressed.

And that time he didn’t have to do anything.

Well, maybe he did, but he didn’t do anything.

Now he was on top.

On top with no clue at all.

“Do you need to throw up?” Whizzer asked, putting one of his hands on Marvin’s cheek. “You look constipated. That’s not good.” He laughed, stroking Marvin’s hair back.

“No, no! It’s no big deal, it’s just that I– uh…”

“Oh no! Did you…already?” Whizzer looked down between their bodies.

“No! It’s that…”

God, Whizzer’s hand felt so good.

Why couldn’t his hands feel as good to Whizzer? Why couldn’t he just know what to do?

“Please don't tell me again how you're not actually a homosexual,” Whizzer said, reaching for Marvin’s groin. “Because I know you’d be lying,” he laughed.

“Whizzer, I don’t know what to do,” Marvin finally brought out, staring at a spot on the pillow beside Whizzer’s face.

“Like in general? In life? I mean, does anyone really? We’re all just wild animals, bullshitting our life through it.”

“What? No, I mean right now! I don’t know how to do this! I don’t know what to do with my hands, and...- . I’ve never done this before, okay?!”

“Wait, you’re a virgin?!”

“Whizzer, I have a son!”

“Anything's possible nowadays”

“No, I’m not a virgin! I’ve just never done it with…a man, you know?”

“Really?”

“I thought that’d be rather obvious”

“I don’t know, I guess. But… I mean not even in college?! You did say you went to college!”

“No…”

“Hm,” Whizzer said, mockingly nodding thoughtfully, “interesting”.

“So now what?”

“Now, I am going to do the honors,” Whizzer chuckled, moving their bodies and getting on top of Marvin. “It’s really quite easy,” he assured him. 

“So, first of all,” he went on, putting his fingers on Marvin’s hips and slowly sliding his underwear down his legs.

Marvin bit his lip, uncomfortably trying to avoid eye contact, before Whizzer kissed him again.

“Your turn,” he ordered, putting Marvin’s hands on his own hips and slowly helping him push down his.

“Okay, good. So now we do this,” he said then, taking Marvin’s wrist, laying his hand on his upper thigh, before starting to kiss his neck.

This was easy.

And so similar.

And so different.

The motions were familiar.

The feeling devastatingly different.

“Now, this is when the magic happens,” Whizzer mumbled into his ear, two hands on his hips turning Marvin’s body around, so that he lay face down against the pillow.

“You good?” Whizzer asked from behind him, his fingers running over his back.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Marvin said insecurely.

Maybe now the hitting part would begin? 

His body tensed up. 

He braced himself for the impact of a whip or something else.

Instead, he felt a soft kiss against his back.

Two calm hands on his hips.

A groin against his butt.

Pain.

Then, indescribable pleasure.

Overwhelming pleasure.

Soft, slow motions.

So, so much pleasure.

He felt Whizzer’s head back against his shoulder. His hair tickling his bare skin. His groans in his ear. His breezy kisses against his cheek, every time he reached it.

'Whizzer, I am not going to last long like this, I am so sorry, I don’t want to do this to you again but I just can’t.'

That is what he wanted to say.

“Wh- Whi- Hmm..,” is what came out of his mouth instead.

Whizzer still understood.

“That’s okay,” he heard him say. “Let go.”

It probably wasn’t fine, though. Him getting his pleasure and then leaving Whizzer cold.

But to be completely honest, he didn’t even care at this point.

He didn’t care what was fair.

He didn’t care what Whizzer thought.

He just knew that it felt so fucking good right now and that he just wanted to get off.

“Fuck,” Marvin breathed out, after what must have been around two minutes in total.

Not a great track record, but who was he going to tell about this, anyway.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Whizzer said, kissing Marvin’s nose.

“I’ll clean that up..” Marvin sighed, trying to sit up again, but Whizzer wrapped his arms around him more tightly.

Marvin felt the warmth of the other man's body against his back, before he drifted off to sleep.

-

Marvin woke up with a headache, a stinging pain in his butt and Whizzer’s arms still around him.

Not the worst way to wake up, if you ask me.

However, he had hoped that waking up would be a more graceful affair.

Them both being wrapped up in the white blanket or something, laying there like young gods.

Instead, he found that Whizzer had stolen all of the blanket for himself. His whole body was immersed in the white fabric, some of it bunched up between them with Whizzer’s head just resting on it and arms spread out over it, still holding on to Marvin’s waist, eyes closed, breathing softly.

He looked cute.

But looking cute didn’t help Marvin who lay there naked, cold and in the mess he had left yesterday night.

He also really needed to pee.

He sat up, untangling himself from Whizzer’s arms, who just groaned, hugging the blanket instead. Marvin chuckled, looking around to search for his underwear on the floor. He glanced around the room, knowing that this was his chance to really find out more about Whizzer Brown (also known as: to really snoop around and overanalyze everything in the room), but he just really needed to pee.

Right now.

He stood up, instantly regretting everything as a sharp pain jolted through his body. 

He put his hand on the small of his back, pressing his eyes shut for a second, scooting through the narrow space between the bed that seemed to take up almost the entirety of the room and the wall.

It wasn’t that the bed was very big.

It was just that the room was pretty damn fucking small.

He found his underwear tangled up under the bed, accidentally knocking off some pictures that had been taped to the wall.

He quickly pulled the boxers over his legs, instantly forgetting about the photos again as every move he made gave him a jolting pain running through his body.

Deciding that he would never in his life be able to bend down again, he pathetically waddled to the door, towards the hallway.

Now, he knew that he just had to walk in a straight line to get to the bathroom.

Easy.

However, he found himself confronted with another obstacle, as he heard the sound of two women’s voices from the kitchen. The door was open and he would most definitely have to pass it on the way to the bathroom.

Great, just great.

Okay, maybe if he walked by quickly, they wouldn’t notice him.

But as he took another step, he realized that walking quickly wasn’t really an option right now. 

He looked back, considering putting on the rest of his clothes, but couldn’t bear the thought of having to bend down so many times and search around, and his bladder was actually killing him, still filled with all those damned cocktails from last night.

Bravely, he took another step, just hoping that they would be too consumed into their conversation to notice him.

“Yeah, he had a lightbulb up his ass. I hate working night shifts, it’s so- sweetie, you’re burning the pancakes!” he heard a woman say.

“I am n- oh, shit, I am,” Cordelia answered.

Okay, this was good.

They wouldn’t notice.

He took a breath, stepping in front of the open door.

He was just gonna fly by aaand-

“Oh, good morning!” 

Shit.

“Good morning!” Marvin answered, putting on a smile, while he awkwardly turned towards them, crossing his arms to cover at least a bit of his nude chest.

The woman Marvin didn’t know had spoken, sitting on the mysterious third chair at the table. She had dark skin and long black hair. Both her and Cordelia wore dressing gowns and were now grinning at each other.

“Hi! You want pancakes?” Cordelia asked, turning around from the stove. “They’re not burnt at all!” She added, throwing a sharp glance at the other woman.

“Uh, no thanks. I was just on my way to the bathroom,” Marvin said, uncomfortably shifting onto his other leg, hoping that they would take the hint.

They didn’t.

Or they just wanted to see him suffer.

“Is Whizzer still asleep?” Cordelia asked.

“Yeah,” Marvin answered, desperately trying not to blush.

What grown man even blushes?!

It was just the fact that they knew!

They knew what he and Whizzer had done last night!

They were probably used to it because of Whizzer doing it all the time.

They probably thought of Marvin as just another guy.

But they knew.

“I’ll just… uhm-“ Marvin said, gesturing towards the bathroom, before stepping away from the door.

Had that been rude?

Maybe a little bit.

He didn’t care.

He needed to pee.

He rushed into the bathroom as fast as he could - which was not very fast, his body still hurting all over - quickly closing the door after himself.

The room was very small with grey tiles, a small shower in the corner, and a sink and toilet in the other. 

I mean it’s a bathroom, what do you expect.

After Marvin had finished, he walked to the sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Surprisingly enough, he looked fine.

More surprisingly, he felt fine.

He had dark bags under his eyes, but he always had those.

His hair looked a mess, but he could comb it.

He did feel guilty, mostly for cheating on his wife, partly for cheating on her with a man.

But he didn’t feel dirty.

He knew he should.

But he didn’t.

Crazy, how his life could change, but his body just stayed the same.

He stepped back, a jolt of pain running through him again.

Oh, yeah.

So his body wasn’t exactly the same, after all.

He opened the cabinet door, looking for something against his pain, maybe some Advil or something. 

In the cabinet there were lots of different containers for all kinds of stuff. Hair gel, hairspray, lipstick, dry shampoo, normal shampoo, soaps, and all of these weird make-up stuff that all looks like the same thing just in different containers but your wife gets mad at you when you tell her that.

Marvin was sure Whizzer owned at least half of all this junk.

He searched around for a while, moving stuff around, before he found some medicine bottles, searching through them until a yellow one fell into his hands. It had only a few pills left, the name on the label saying: “Adderall / Mr. Takayashi / Social Security Number 502-65-6789”

Oookay?

He was preeeetty sure that there was no Mr. Takayashi living there.

Except if that was Whizzer’s boyfriend.

Or his real name.

Adderall, huh?

Marvin knew it because a doctor had once tried to prescribe it for Jason.

It will make him calmer, less jittery. 

It will make his thoughts slow down, help him focus on one task.

Marvin had said that no son of his needed this chemical bullshit.

And Jason had turned out fine!

Well, kinda.

Hadn’t Whizzer said something about taking medicine against this kind of thing?

Marvin sighed.

It was probably just drugs or something, he decided. Just because Whizzer had stayed sober last night didn’t mean that he wasn’t just like all those other homosexuals who were constantly high and slacking around and stuff. 

Whizzer wasn’t different.

Marvin put the medicine back and closed the cabinet, before walking back out of the bathroom.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not buying that. Tell me the real story!” he heard Cordelia say.

Man, this house had thin walls.

Marvin walked towards the door again, stopping in his tracks as he heard Whizzer’s voice.

“That is the real story! Anyway, this is nothing, can we just move on?”

“This isn’t nothing, Whizzer!” the other woman said. “This definitely needs stitches, you’re lucky if you didn’t get it infected! What did you think you were doing?! I’ll take you with me to the hospital later. Why didn’t you come to me in the first place?”

“I can’t go to the hospital anymore”

“What do you mean you can’t? Of course you can!” She insisted and paused for a moment. “You don’t have to pay, if that’s what you’re worried about! I’ll just sneak you in and stitch it up,” she said then, her voice softening a little.

“I can’t go!” Whizzer insisted.

“Why?” 

“I went there yesterday”

“To search for Charlotte? To patch you up?” Cordelia asked.

“No, before that. Before it happened…- I uhm, so you know how I sleep with that guy who gives out prescriptions for the mental health stuff?”

“Yeah”

“Well, they fired him”

“Yeah, because people slept with him and he gave them prescriptions with fake names on ‘em,” the other woman - was she a doctor or something? - said.

“Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do, Charlotte?! I don’t have any fancy medical insurance and I also don’t have a spare 500 dollars lying around every month”

“I know…”

“So, anyway,” Whizzer went on, “they fired him so now there’s this new guy.”

“And you’ve slept with the new doctor as well?”

“Naturally”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Well, yesterday we were in his office and I was on my knees and -“

“Whiz, please.”

“No, it’s- See, I was on my knees and started doing my…thing, and he seemed to change his mind, realizing what he was doing or whatever and totally freaked out”

“So that’s why your face looks like that?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“I’ll bring by my stuff and patch you up here later”

“Thanks, Char…”

Marvin was still standing inches away from the door, uncomfortably staring at the dim rays of light that came through the crack between the door and frame. He rubbed his hands over his bare arms. He was freezing.

“Mr. Larson came by this morning,” Cordelia spoke up again, trying to change the subject.

“Geez, why’d you open the door?” Whizzer said almost too quickly, jumping on the chance to lighten the mood.

“Well, I didn’t. You left it open last night, Whiz-kid.”

“I did? Oh, yeah, I guess I did”

“Thanks to you he almost burst in on me and Charlotte…- sleeping”

Marvin could hear Whizzer giggle, followed by something that sounded like a hand slapping his arm.

“Just consider yourself lucky he didn’t burst into yours and lover boy’s room!”

“Oh, I do! What’d he want?”

“Our landlord? Oh, nothing! Just stopped by to give us his blessing and a thank you note! “

“Oh, how nice of him”

“Isn’t it just? But seriously, Whizzer, that guy is gonna chuck us out on the street if we don’t pay the rent we owe him!”

“We can do it, it’s only like what, two months?”

“Three, plus next month, cause it’s almost the 1st”

Whizzer sighed, “Well, Mr. Feinstein wrecked my reputation or what was left of it with his review, so I don’t know where to apply anymore, honestly. Maybe I can ask if I can start working at the bar again…”

“No, you hated that job!”

“It’s a job, though”

“I thought you wanted to get back into photography?”

“My camera broke,” Whizzer said. “It’s fine. Seriously, it’s fine, Cordelia!” he said then, “a kid at camp played around with it and dropped it and- it doesn’t matter”

“Can’t their parents pay for it?”

“He said they’d totally freak out. It was just an accident. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t make money, anyway. I’ll just start working at the bar again. Can you pass me the batter?”

Marvin shifted onto his other leg.

Whizzer working at a bar?

With all those drunk guys grinding on each other and flirting with everybody?

He didn’t want that.

He definitely didn’t want that.

“Hey, by the way, are you aware that you’re sinning right now?” Cordelia asked.

“What’s new about THAT?”

“You’re breaking your OWN holy rules! No sleeping over, no cuddling, no breakfast,” Cordelia imitated a deep voice that Marvin guessed was supposed to be Whizzer’s. 

It didn’t sound like Whizzer at all, though.

“I don’t sound like that at all, Cordelia. You’re terrible at impressions..”

“Don’t change the subject. This one’s special, or what?”

“What? No! I did NOT break my rules! He didn’t even have breakfast yet. We just fell asleep, that’s all!”

“Yeah, right! You never just fall asleep! And you are literally making pancakes for him right this second!” Cordelia teased.

“Those are for me…”

“Yeah, suuure”

“They are!”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why suddenly you’re too fancy to eat my burnt pancakes and insist on making them yourself?”

“Get off of my ass, Delia,” Whizzer sighed, but sounded more like a brother being annoyed by his sister rather than actually angry.

Marvin tried to suppress a grin, looking down at the floor. He decided he had heard enough, walking back past the door that luckily was now closed so much so that him walking past it wasn’t too obvious. He went back into the bedroom and, - for some reason - felt like there was a new spring in his step.

Although his butt DID still hurt.

But it didn’t seem to matter much anymore.

He looked around the room, picking his clothes back up and putting his them back on: a task that had seemed impossible just a few minutes ago.

But many things you think are incredibly difficult turn out to actually be pretty easy in the end, after you have actually dared to start doing them.

He buckled his belt, before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his checkbook. He found a pencil on the little wooden night stand next to the bed, picking it up and filling out the check with he guessed should worth around 6 months of rent in a shabby apartment in Greenwich village.

Call it generosity.

Call it an apology.

Call it a compensation.

In his taxes, Marvin would just call it a charity donation and write it off.

Because he was a grown-up and he knew how to do these kinds of things.

Because he wasn’t like the other guys Whizzer slept with.

Call it a desperate attempt at keeping Whizzer’s good spirits up.

An attempt to distinguish him further from all the young hobos that Whizzer usually brought here.

Seems like he was already different than the other guys, anyway.

He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, though.

Didn’t want to talk to Cordelia or that other lady.

Didn’t want them asking lots of questions.

He smiled again, placing the check on the bed, before walking back into the hallway and out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pretty sure this is the longest chapter I have ever posted and honestly, I should be stopped.  
> Anyway, I have literally gone full circle with this whole process, because last year, when I published my first fic, I started watching Smash and now I am fucking rewatching it. Seeing Christian Borle so young and so gay is helping a lot with writing this, by the way, 10/10 would recomment.  
> Oh and by the way, I couldn't decide which song exactly it is that Whizzer's just totally getting down to in that fic, but in my head while writing it, it was a hard tie between "Angel Eyes" and "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!", both by ABBA. Yeah, don't ask, I went through another hard Mamma Mia phase when the new movie came out. Anyway, let my know what song you imagined.


	13. Love's Unkind, Spiteful in a Million Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the sight of Whizzer sitting there, looking sick, barely able hold his head up or to tie his shoe laces, filled Marvin with excitement and anticipation.
> 
> This time, he was surely going to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, just as a little disclaimer: there's a shitload of internalized homophobia in this chapter.  
> But I mean what's new, eh?

3265 x 96 = 313440

313440 – 55479 = 257961

“Marvin, are you listening?”

“Mhm,” Marvin mumbled, looking back at Mendel sat across from him. 

“Then what did I say?” Mendel asked back.

“That I should try having a more positive attitude and good things will happen,” Marvin guessed and it seemed to satisfy Mendel insofar that he nodded and went on talking.

Marvin sank back in his chair, zoning out all the stupid advice, solving math problems in his head.

257961 + 8894 = 266855

He had gotten a little bored of just counting in his head.

So now he was doing this.

Marvin loved math.

He loved his job: sitting at the office, bowed over his desk and being immersed in calculating, filling out the pages with neat little black numbers.

All correct, all in order.

He loved the way that everything made sense. 

Everything build on each other, it was a system that connects everything, that is built entirely on logic.

Everything was always clear.

Funnily enough, his love for math was also the only thing that he was sure about in his life.

Did he love his wife?

Probably not.

Did he love his son?

Probably yes.

Did he love his gay lover?

Definitely not!

Well, maybe not love, but maybe something else.

Maybe as a friend.

Maybe as an object of desire.

Maybe he liked the idea of him.

Maybe he just liked that he had someone to stick his penis into and that felt good.

It had been a few weeks since their first time together and it was going pretty good..

Except when it wasn’t going pretty good.

Life is often like that, have you noticed?

It couldn’t actually be any other way.

Marvin went to work and he went home again.

He went to Whizzer’s apartment and they’d have sex.

Sometimes he stayed there overnight, sometimes he did not.

Marvin would mostly be on top now.

Not that it’s any of your business to know.

He had gotten the hang of it pretty quickly and he liked it much better this way.

If he was honest with himself, he would know that he liked it because it gave him power. 

Looking down at Whizzer’s back, being in control over their two bodies. 

He didn’t see Whizzer’s face while doing it. 

Not that he didn’t like Whizzer’s face. 

He liked it a lot. 

However, he liked it a bit too much. Without seeing it he felt like he could last longer. 

Sometimes, for very brief moments, he could even pretend Whizzer was a woman. 

Not because he liked that better, he definitely knew at this point that he didn’t.

But it made him feel better about what they were doing. 

Though, less aroused. 

Muuuch less aroused. 

He knew it was fucked up.

But this whole thing was pretty sick, after all, so who cares.

It was not like he didn’t do any good either.

After having paid Whizzer and Cordelia’s rent that first time, it had become some kind of habit for Marvin to turn up with some kind of gift: a new camera, a record player, some records, cufflinks, expensive take-out meals, money for groceries, money for god-knows-what. 

Whizzer got it all. 

Marvin was almost jealous of him, it must be nice to have a Marvin in your life, he often thought.

Whizzer wasn’t as grateful as he had hoped.

He continued to go out.

He continued to sleep around with other man.

Whizzer didn’t even hide it.

Talked about it, even. About the parties and the nights out and the guys he’s met.

Those were the times when it didn’t go very well between them both.

When they would yell at each other for what felt like hours.

‘Well, you’re married, so your point isss..?’ was Whizzer’s stupid standard answer to Marvin’s complaining.

As if that was an actual argument.

As if living with someone under one roof, who you don’t even talk to or, god-forbit, sleep with anymore was the same as whoring around every day.

And Marvin was in his office, his 9 to 5 job, earning money only to throw it out of the window for Whizzer.

Marvin could just search for another young guy who was willing to fuck him. It wasn’t hard! Whizzer wasn’t the ultimate gay men in New York City!

Marvin pushed the thought aside, trying to solve more math problems.

Number after number.

Not thinking of having to keep up with all of his own lies.

Just

Number

After 

Number

Not thinking of complicated feelings.

After

Number.

Not thinking of definitions.

After 

Number.

Not thinking of responsibilities and expectations.

After

Num-

“Marvin, is there anything going on in your life? Any conflicting feelings?”

“No, I’m fine,” Marvin answered.

“Everything okay at work?”

“Yup”

Nothing was okay at work.

He liked the job, but he was terribly afraid of getting fired.

Since he had started seeing Whizzer, he hadn’t stayed late even once anymore.

What had once been an everyday kind of habit, had turned into him leaving the office basically at 4 o’clock every day, with a different made-up reason.

Even right now, it was 1pm and he wasn’t at work but at his stupid psychiatrist’s office.

He had also been late more than a few times, these past weeks. It was just too easy to accidentally oversleep when sleeping at someone’s house who doesn’t even own an alarm clock.

What kind of lazy person must you be to not own a fucking alarm clock?!

He couldn’t get fired.

That would be the end.

That would be the thing tipping him over the edge.

First he would lose his only place of serenity and quietness in the world.

Then he would lose Whizzer, more quickly than anybody, not able to pay for his expensive taste anymore.

After that, he would lose what was left of Trina’s and his son’s respect for him.

He would lose the house.

The cars.

How would he even find a new job?!

A middle-aged man searching for a job in a high-class firm in New York city, while surrounded by millions of fresh grad students.

If he would get fired, it would be all Whizzer’s fault.

Kind of poetic, really.

Karma, maybe.

Him being the reason for Whizzer getting fired and then him getting fired because of Whizzer.

And what if they knew of him and Whizzer?

What if they would fire him because they knew about him and Whizzer.

Had he not been careful enough?

He was so afraid.

Had someone seen them together?

He was terrified.

Paranoid of everyone around him.

Hating everyone around him.

Most of all, hating himself.

“You sure you don’t want to share anything with me today?” Mendel asked.

“No, everything’s great!”

“That’s awesome! I must say, you really seem to be improving!”

-

Marvin had efficiently snuck past the reception and into the elevator, now walking to his desk as casually and quietly as he could, before he slipped into the seat, taking an expense report and starting to fill it out.

Maybe they’d think he had met with a client or something.

Maybe everybody would just mind their own fucking business.

“Hey, where’ve you been?” a voice interrupted him. 

He sighed, glancing up at Miller, who was hovering over his desk, grinning at him with a weird look on his face.

“Lunch,” Marvin answered, looking back down at the form and hoping that this would be the end of their conversation.

“Yeah, sure. You were out for like two hours!” Miller disagreed.

“Lost track of the time”

“YOU losing track of a number? I don’t think so!”

“Richard, what do you want? I have to work,” Marvin sighed.

“Gee, I was just asking!” the man laughed his obnoxiously loud laugh, leaning against his desk, Marvin moving his stapler away from his stupidly long fingers.

“You know that Tyler not only made the school team this year but the coach made him the quarterback? Can you believe that? He is only barely thirteen and some of these boys are way older already!”

“How great for Tyler”

“I think sports is one of the most important parts of raising boys, don’t you think? They’re not really boys if they aren’t playing rough and having that drive to win. I wouldn’t want to raise a pansy”

“I guess”

“You guess?! I mean I know you raise Jason differently, but…-“

“What is THAT supposed to mean?”

“You gotta admit he’s…a bit of a nancy boy”

“Excuse ME?!”

“Well, Tyler tells me he didn’t even try out for football and how he didn’t make the baseball team and keeps to himself a lot”

“So what?”

“I’m just saying, you should take care of these things early, before it gets out of control. It’s all in the upbringing. It really is! All these fags you see on the street, I want to have a word with their parents.”

“My son is NOT a fairy, thank you very much!”

“Not yet, he isn’t! I have raised five boys and I know that when you see the slightest bit of a sissy in them, you drive it out of them. For example when they want to read-”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that. Reading’s not that bad”

“Reading is for wimps, Marvin. Real men DO things! They don’t sit around all day, dreaming about other boys in dresses and about whipping them “

“What, did Jeremy tell you this as well? I don’t think that’s actually how it works with gay people. I think they actua-“

“I don’t care, it’s sick, Marvin. It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, I mean sure, but –“

“Why are you defending them?!”

“I’m not defending them! I am just saying…- I don’t know”

“Well, don’t! You have to set a clear example for your kid, Marvin. You have to be a real man”

Who did this guy think he was?!

Sure, he was muscular.

Sure, he had raised five boys and all of them were on some stupid sports team.

Sure, he was handsome.

Sure, he earned about three times the amount that Marvin did just because he was friends with the boss and they played poker together.

But that didn’t mean he could just insult Marvin.

Or could he?

“I AM a real man,” Marvin insisted, hating himself for not sounding as convincing as he had hoped he would.

“Are you, now?”

He was really pushing it now.

He was probably hoping for Marvin to punch him.

He was such an arsehole.

But Marvin still couldn’t bring himself to punch him.

He didn’t want to lose his job over this.

Or was that just some stupid excuse?

“I’m just saying, you could man up a little. Call me if you need help, I know what you could do“ Richard went on, handing him his card with his phone number and address. 

He knew what he could fucking do.

He could start working out more.

He could stand up to Trina more.

He could force Jason to stop sitting in his room all the time.

He could end his fucking affair with a man.

“I’m gonna leave early today.” Marvin interrupted him, grabbing his bag and walking back out of the office.

He knew that Richard was right.

He knew he had to step the fuck up and be a man.

-

Marvin hated going to the clubs but it was only 2 o’clock, which meant that Whizzer was definitely not home.

He knew he had to end it.

Had to end whatever they had, before it completely spiraled out of control and destroyed his whole life.

There was no line in front of the club.

Of course, there wasn’t. 

It was a miracle that it was even open at this time of day, but Marvin had learned early on that the homosexuals didn’t pay attention to most of society’s rules.

Marvin was just glad he didn’t have to wait in line.

He wasn’t like Whizzer, he didn’t feel comfortable skipping the lines and flirting with random guys that were at least 10 years younger than him. So he had to wait in line, which was always one of the most stressful and obnoxious experiences of his life.

It wasn’t worth it.

This whole affair wasn’t worth it.

The paranoia, the lies, the fear, the degradation.

He needed to do this for Jason too.

Set an example.

Inside the club, the lights were dimmed, a few people on the dance floor and a couple at the bar where Marvin also spotted Whizzer.

No surprise there.

He was leaned against the counter, flirting with some guy.

No surprise there either.

Marvin slowly walked closer, making sure that Whizzer didn’t see him.

“No, I mean totally!” he heard Whizzer say, as he came closer. “No, I just mean that’s really cool that you’re a firefighter! That’s like every woman’s dream man, isn’t it? And every man’s, I guess, huh? There’s always this cliché about fire fighters being super muscular and stuff. Is that annoying? I mean not that you’re not muscular! Just not as muscular as you’d think when you think of a fireman, you know? Fireman is a really cool job title, if you think about it. Fire fighter as well. Sounds like the name of a superhero or something. Well, I mean I guess not a real hero, because instead of villains he’d be fighting a fire. Which is basically what you do anyways…”

Marvin frowned, staring at Whizzer.

What the fuck was he doing?

He didn’t look well.

He now had stitches on his lip, the wound still not having healed up and probably would not in the next few weeks, since Whizzer was nervously picking at it while rambling on and on, his whole body in an unusual state of uneasiness, rocking back and forth.

“Have you ever carried someone out of a fire like in the movies? I bet that looked pretty badass. I don’t think anyone has carried me bridal style like…ever. Well, as a baby, I suppose. My friend Charlotte once told me that they had some guy in the ER, who had tried to carry a 30 pound bag of flour. She’s a doctor. Why would you ever need this much flour, imagine how much stuff you could back with th-“

“Uh, sorry, I just saw my friend. I’m gonna go to him” the guy interrupted Whizzer mid-sentence, not even waiting for a reply as he walked off somewhere where there was definitely no other friend waiting.

Whizzer sighed deeply, sinking back on a barstool and laying his head on the counter.

“What’s up with YOU, Whizzer? That was the fifth cute guy you let get away! What’s happened to the Whizzer I know who could say three words and get up and get sucked off in the bathroom?” Iain asked, sliding a drink over to the man.

Whizzer put his head back up, putting his chin in his hand.

“Ran out of pills a few days ago…” he mumbled, taking a sip of the drink.

“What? Like drugs?”

“No, not drugs. My medication.” Whizzer answered.

“Oh, your medication, suure” Iain said mockingly.

“No, it’s a real thing, Iain!”

“Okay, okay! Just go to the doctor’s then!”

“Don’t have insurance”

“Go suck someone’s dick then! Money or prescription, you’ll get something out of it!”

“You don’t think I’ve tried that?! You can see how well THAT’S going!” Whizzer said, sliding back down, head laying on his arm on the counter, watching the crowd. Iain chuckled, before turning around to make drinks for a group of customers that started to gather around the bar. Marvin sat down on the barstool next to Whizzer, who still didn’t notice him, eyes tiredly fixed on the dance floor. 

Marvin watched him, an involuntary smile coming to his lips.

Whizzer was usually so aloof.

Doing what he wanted to do, doing WHO he wanted to do.

He always acted like he was in control, like he was the man of the relationship or something.

Marvin couldn’t help but touch Whizzer’s head, running his fingertips through the dark blonde hair, softly stroking it back. 

Whizzer moved his head, glancing up at him, before smiling a warm smile.

“Oh, hey, Marvin…” he said softly.

“Hey…” Marvin answered, bending down and kissing his forehead.

He couldn’t do this.

Not when Whizzer looked at him like this.

He liked this Whizzer.

He liked his softness.

He liked his weakness.

“You doing okay?” Marvin asked, running his finger over Whizzer’s ear.

“Yeah,” Whizzer answered, closing his eyes.

“You seem kinda tired, anything the matter?”

“Nah, just bored”

“I know something that’ll wake you up!”

-

“It bounced twice!”

“No, it didn’t!”

“Yes, once, then twice!”

“Fine! Go again!”

Marvin had played racquetball with Whizzer a couple times before.

He always won.

Every single time.

It wasn’t that Marvin necessarily expected to win.

He was more the brainy type, than the sporty, anyway.

But…every single time?!

He could at least let him win!

Just once!

Whizzer had seemed surprised when Marvin suggested a game, but he hadn’t objected.

Whizzer took a short break, bending down to tie his shoe, while Marvin tugged at his shirt. 

Well, Whizzer’s shirt.

They had popped by this apartment real quick, getting them both some gym clothes. Whizzer had tossed an orange T-shirt and a pair of red shorts with a rainbow on the side into his hands. Now that Marvin saw Whizzer in his white shorts and matching white shirt, he wasn’t sure if that had been a joke which he had been supposed to laugh at and pick out some other clothes.

He didn’t mind that much, though. Just the sight of Whizzer barely able to tie his shoe laces filled him with excitement and anticipation.

This time, he was surely going to win.

One

Two

Three

Four

One

Two 

Three 

Fuckk

“Hit your shoe!” Whizzer exclaimed, pointing at the ball on the floor.

“I fucking know!” Marvin snapped.

One

Two 

Shit

Marvin groaned, throwing his hands up in the air, as Whizzer walked over to the ball on the floor. The man was panting, hand on his side. He seemed to be tired, but at the same time he was constantly moving around, uneasily jumping from side to side. 

What a fucking faker.

There was no way he felt this sick and still beat Marvin.

Just no fucking way.

Whizzer rubbed his eyes, closing them for a second, as if he was feeling nauseous.

Yeah, nice touch.

But Marvin still didn’t believe him.

“You ready?” Whizzer asked, Marvin nodding before Whizzer threw the ball back into the air, hitting it with the racquet with ease.

One 

Two

Three

Four

Marvin hit it back at Whizzer.

One

Two 

Three

Four

Whizzer hit it back at Marvin.

One

Two 

Three

Four

Marvin hit it back at Whizzer.

Whizzer had his eyes closed, rubbing his temple with his finger.

He MUST miss this one.

One 

Two

Three

Four

He hit it, opening one eye.

Marvin let it shoot past him, staring at Whizzer.

“What the FUCK?” 

“Hm?” Whizzer asked, moving his hand away from his face. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing?! Are you mocking me?!”

“What? No, I’m not mocking you! What’d I do?!”

“You hit the ball!”

“Yeah, so what?”

“You weren’t even looking!”

“I was looking!”

“You were glancing! Do you think you’re better than me?!”

“What? At this game? I don’t know, what does it matter?”

“It matters to me because you are mocking me!” Marvin insisted, staring at Whizzer.

“Marvin, I just have a lot of practice at these kinds of thin-“

“Oh, so now you’re saying I’m not athletic enough!”

“Marvin...-” Whizzer sighed, his hand back at his lip, nervously fiddling with the stiches.

“Oh, would you stop it?!” Marvin snapped.

“Stop what?”

“This act! This whole act of feeling sooo sick and being soo fidgety. It would work if you weren’t so dead set on winning all the fucking time that you lose it completely once you play!”

“It’s not an act, Marvin! It’s just that when I was a kid I was like this as well but I still had to play and so I practiced so much because my da-“

“Yeah, whatever” Marvin interrupted him.

He didn’t want to hear his sob story, okay? 

He was pathetic! 

Just winning isn’t enough, it doesn’t make you a real man.

Not when you can’t pay your rent on your own.

Not when you can’t provide for yourself on your own.

Marvin watched Whizzer turn around and head for the changing rooms again, quickly following him.

“Oh, come on, Whizzer! I just meant-“

“I know what you meant.” Whizzer answered. “You suck, Marvin.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re rude and so unhappy with your own fucking life, you have to tear everybody down with you”

“Oh, is that so? At least I have a fucking job! You’re pathetic and you can’t even provide for yourself,” Marvin spat out, before their bodies were pressed together again, Whizzer’s lips on his. Marvin pulled him into a solo changing room, slamming the door shut behind themselves. 

It always ended that way.

All their fights.

It didn’t make the arguments less hurtful, though.

He knew that both of them had still meant every word they had said.

It wasn’t reconciliation either.

It was just something they did.

He sucked at the skin on Whizzer’s neck, his hands on his own waistband of his shorts. He felt Whizzer’s shaky hands on his skin, Marvin letting his shorts drop to the floor. 

This was wrong.

He should just end it right now.

He couldn’t do this.

He had done it so many times by now, but he just couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Richard and what this would make him in his eyes.

A faggot, a sissy, a patsy, a nancy, a fairy.

“Hold on one second... –“ Whizzer told him, leaning against the wall of the narrow changing room, to create some space between them, closing his eyes for a moment.

He really didn’t look too well and he wasn’t acting like himself.

Or like the version of himself that Marvin knew.

Confident and loud and outspoken and passionate and harsh.

But maybe Marvin liked this version of Whizzer better.

As he opened his eyes again, Marvin grabbed onto Whizzer’s shirt, pulling him down a little. Whizzer seemed confused a second, looking back at Marvin until he realized what he wanted.

They hadn’t done this before.

But he knew that Whizzer, this Whizzer, wouldn’t say no.

Because he seemed too tired to fight anymore.

Because he knew that Marvin would give him money for it.

Because he was the weak one now.

Marvin nodded at Whizzer, giving him a look that made the other man finally get down on his knees.

Maybe this would work.

This wasn’t that gay, right?

And he was in charge.

He liked that.

Whizzer was not one to complain, constantly sleeping with other men, constantly cheating on him.

He was the cruel one!

He was the poor one!

He was the cheap one!

Marvin was the smart one!

The responsible one!

This time, Marvin was finally in charge of the situation.

Whizzer could be as good at sports as he wanted to, he could be as handsome as he wanted to, but Marvin was always in charge of them both.

In this position, it was obvious.

He was the man here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to make a public service announcement and say that I have NO clue how to play racquetball. However, I DO have a racket for it from my mom, from the actual 80s. It is purple and yes, I did stare at it the whole time while writing this fic, thank you for asking.


	14. Let's Both Fight, Whizzer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh please,” Marvin sighed. “Come on, don’t be a sissy.”  
> At this, Whizzer got silent and Marvin pushed himself closer again, pleasure running through his entire body. He heard Whizzer whimper, feeling a sudden sting in his heart, but ignored it, pulling away and pushing against him again, feeling the pleasure again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote about half of this chapter on the train into a little notebook. How fucking retro is that shit?? It was kinda fun but it also sucked because at home I had to decifer and type all of it again. So that's how my life's going. Exciting, I know.

“Dad, how do you open a locker?”

“A what?” Marvin frowned, looking down at his son who was walking by his side. 

Personally, he thought Jason was old enough to walk to school by himself, but since he had just started middle school, and especially since Marvin’s ‘a junky-attacked-me story’, Trina forced Marvin to take him before going to work, and since it was literally impossible to find a parking spot there, he had to walk him for five blocks or Jason would go snitch.

The nice thing was that they usually took a short cut through Central Park, since Jason’s school was near there. 

Trina said it was good for Jason to get the fresh park air in the morning. 

Marvin asked how fresh the air could possibly be, the park stuffed in between streets with hundreds of cars.

But he still liked it better than walking through the crowded streets.

“A locker. How do you open it?” Jason asked again.

“You had lockers at your elementary school!”

“No, we just had stupid cubbies…”

“You’ve been going to that new school for two days already, did no one teach you yet?”

“No, everybody just kinda does it”

“And you haven’t used your locker at all yet?!”

“No”

“Well, that explains why this bag’s weighing more than you,” Marvin sighed, currently carrying Jason’s blue school bag over one of his shoulders as they were walking down the path.

Is path the right word?

I mean it was in nature, right?

Kinda?

Can you even consider Central Park nature?

It’s a patch of green amidst grey buildings towering over families having picnics, who are trying desperately to give their children experiences in nature that they remember, or pretend to remember, so fondly from their own. But when they look at their children standing there, next to the tree that gets trimmed every day, they think that they also wouldn’t know what to do with it. 

Marvin didn’t know it any other way, anyway.

Just like Jason was right now, he himself had grown up in New York. Sure, there had been the occasional vacation, spending a week in the mountains or something, but he hadn’t really played ‘in nature’ either.

In Central Park, no climbing is allowed, for the fear of children falling down and their parents suing the park. No running on the wet grass, no jumping from one rock to another, no touching the statures, no picking the flowers. 

So even Marvin knew that Central Park is just an idea, but can never be a thing. Not with the dark concrete always towering over it and shading the green from the sun.

“Just tell me how it works!” Jason begged.

“Do you have the ones you turn? With numbers?”

“Yeah”

“Okay, it’s really not that hard,” Marvin started, trying hard to think back more years than he’d like to admit. “You uh.. you have three numbers, right? So basically you pass your first number about three times to the left to clear the lock and then go to your first number. Then you turn it into the other direction, to the right, but you pass your second number once and then go to it. Then you go straight to your last number on the left, but be careful not to miss it this time. You understand?”

Jason looked back at him with confusion in his eyes. “Huh?” he asked.

Marvin took a deep breath. “You turn the lock a couple times to clear it, yeah?”

“Uh huh”

“And then you turn it to the left and go to your first number”

“Yes”

“Then you turn the lock to the right and go to your second number, but you pass it”

“Why do I pass it?”

“I don’t know, that’s just how it works. You pass it once and keep turning until you get to it again”

“But why?!”

“I told you, I don’t know, Jason! After that you turn it to the left again, to your last number”

“And pass it again?”

“No, not this time”

“What, why?”

“You just go straight to it”

“What if I accidentally pass it?”

“Just try not to,” Marvin sighed, as they exited the park, now getting closer to the school where tons of kids were already running around, getting yelled at by their parents since they were so close to the street.

Jason’s school was on 76th street. Marvin was sure that kids from states with names like Illinois or Idaho would kill to go to a school with a location like that. But he wasn’t sure why they would. 

Most of the time, schools entirely stand-alone buildings. They have a football field with bleachers and large cafeterias and endless hallways. 

At least in the movies they do.

Jason’s school was in between a dry-cleaner and a hair dresser, surrounded by shoe and souvenir shops. Just another grey building, blending in with the others. There just wasn’t any space for a big building just for kids. 

There was never enough space for anything in New York.

“But what if I do pass it? Do I keep turning the lock to the left or can I go back to the right?”

“Jason, rela-“ Marvin sighed, looking back at his son, who was now nervously fidgeting with a pawn in his hand. “What? Why do you carry that around with you?” 

“Just cause!”

“Give me that!” Marvin sighed, reaching his hand out. Last thing he wanted was Jason having some kind of lovey that distracted him all day.

“No!” Jason insisted, closing his hand to a fist, with the pawn inside of it.

Marvin glanced around, before reaching down, grabbing Jason’s arm and trying to open his hand, both of them scrambling around for a moment.

“Marvin! How are you!” someone interrupted them, Marvin abruptly straightening up again, acting as if he was just holding Jason’s hand, while Jason was squirming, trying to get away.

“Hi! Hi, good, thank you!” he said before even realizing it was Richard who was smiling his stupid smile back at him. “Oh, hello, Richard and oh, hello Karen. Nice to see you again, how are you guys doing?” he added, as he recognized her standing by Richard’s side.

“I’m fantastic!” Richard said and that bastard didn’t even sound like he was lying like everybody else when they say that. Karen just barely raised her hand, watching a group of kids play. 

“How do you know my wife again?” Richard asked.

“We went to that baseball camp trip thing together…” Marvin explained, pulling Jason closer to himself, as he tried to get away again. “Didn’t know she was your wife, though,” he added, hoping that that hadn’t sounded weird.

“Well, she is. She’s a real hottie, huh?” Richard smiled, his hand on his wife’s butt, while his wife just sighed, letting him do it.

Marvin wanted to throw up, but he also kinda wanted to be Richard at the same time.

Well not, you know, touching Karen’s butt.

But just liking women’s butts, I guess.

Also, what do you answer to that?

“Uh…” Marvin chose to answer. 

“Anyway, you had your hands full on that trip, didn’t you?” 

“Huh?”

“I mean with your kid,” Richard said, gesturing at Jason who was now glaring up at Marvin, still trying to pull his hand away.

“Yeah, well, kids, huh?” Marvin shrugged.

“Oh, tell me about it! Our Josie just started middle school as well, and we just cannot keep up with this girl! What a shame she’s a girl. So much wasted potential. I mean she’s doing pretty well, but she sometimes still wants to play with dolls and stuff, can you believe it? She can be a little sissy sometimes. I mean yeah, she made the baseball team. She really takes after her brothers, I told you Tyler is quarterback this year, yeah?” Richard said, pointing over at the little girl, who stood by the school, surrounded by a group of kids who were all playing and laughing. “The teachers are saying she is smart, but she still has so many friends in her grade and we don’t want her to be a little nerd, so we just told her to tone it down with the being a geek.”

“Yeah… No, absolutely,” Marvin agreed, Jason finally able to pull his hand away. Marvin was glad for the distraction, handing him his backpack and watching his son walk away without saying a word. He hoped he would join the group of kids, but Jason stopped a couple of feet away from them, leaning against the wall and looking back down at the damn pawn in his hand.

“Anyway,” Marvin started, “I gotta go. Still have lots of work to do at the office.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? We don’t have to come in today, they’re redoing the floors in the kitchen because that intern caused a fire with the toaster oven yesterday” Richard said, holding him back.

“Jeremy did that AGAIN?!"

"Yeah, you went home early, but it was a total disaster. What an idiot. But we get the day off, so that's awesome, right?"

“Yes, that’s- that’s great! Well, I’ll just go home then, I guess”

“That’s right, get back to that wifey, huh? Getting some while the son is out?”

“Totally”

-

Marvin wasn’t going home.

He couldn’t imagine anything more unpleasant than having to spend the whole entire fucking day with his wife.

So he found himself, as always, back in Greenwich Village.

A risky decision, sure.

Whizzer probably was fucking some other guy right this second.

But maybe he wasn’t.

Ever since he didn’t have his medicine, he wasn’t doing that anymore.

He was just sickly all the time.

And whiny.

And annoying.

But he wasn’t whoring around anymore.

So that was good.

As Marvin stepped up to the door of the apartment complex, he heard someone running up to him and tapping on his shoulder. He turned around, expecting it to be Cordelia or Charlotte, or even Whizzer himself, but it wasn’t.

It was Daniel.

Goddamn doctor Daniel.

Mr. perfect teeth, perfect smile, perfect looks, Daniel.

“Yeah? What?” Marvin sighed, not even trying to be polite.

“Are you here to see Whizzer?” Daniel asked, shifting uncomfortably. “I think I saw you at his apartment once, right?”

“Maybe. Why?” Marvin asked, crossing his arms.

Wait.

Was Daniel coming FROM Whizzer’s apartment?

Or was he also going to his apartment right now?

Had Whizzer invited him?! 

“I know it’s a weird thing to ask, but, when you see Whizzer, can you give him these?” Daniel asked, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a little orange bottle of pills.

“Wait, did he ask you to give those to him…?!” Marvin asked, now feeling totally used. 

So he wasn’t the only one giving Whizzer stuff, huh? 

How much of a fucking sell-out was this guy?!

“No, he didn’t. I just – I’m a doctor and..- Well, he asked me for them a while back but we haven’t really talked since then because I did something I’m not very proud. I don’t really think he wants to see me anymore, can you just give them to him?”

"I don't know..."

"Please! I searched around for him at the bars and stuff, but he's never there anymore. That guy, Iain, told me he's not doing too well, and I figured that's because of his medicine. I guess if he really hasn't gotten it yet, he should be going through a pretty rough withdrawal right now. He's probably running a fever and some shit like that"

"But maybe that's good. Cold turkey, or whatever?"

"No, ADHD is a genetic chemical imbalance in the brain, the pills just fix that, that's all. Without them, especially after taking them for such a long period, the brain'd go ballistic trying to fix the imbalance on its own"

Okkkkay, Mr. Smartypants.

We get it.

You have a fucking useless piece of paper on your wall that says that you're smart or whatever.

Marvin had a degree as well.

Nothing to brag about.

“Sure, whatever. I'll give them to him,” Marvin sighed, taking them out of his hand and putting them in his briefcase.

“Thanks,” Daniel smiled, obviously relieved.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marvin answered, before kicking the lower right corner of the door, so that it opened by itself, a trick that Whizzer had taught him so that nobody always had to come running down the flights of stairs to open the door. 

Bet you Daniel didn’t know that.

Looks like perfect doctor Daniel doesn’t know everything, after all.

Marvin fought his way upstairs, knocking on the apartment door, Whizzer opening it surprisingly fast.

Not only that, but he was also wearing surprisingly little, only clad in some boxer shorts, smiling as he saw Marvin. 

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you’d come around today. Don’t you have to work right now?”

“Is anyone else here?” Marvin asked, instead of reciprocating the happiness.

“No” Whizzer frowned.

“Was anyone else here?”

“What? Well, Delia just left but nobody else, why?”

“You’re naked”

“No, I’m not!”

“Well, almost!”

“So what?”

“So you just fucked someone!”

“I didn’t!”

“Then you were obviously expecting someone!”

“No, I’m not!”

Marvin rolled his eyes, “I wish you would stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying! I was too hot, that’s it.” Whizzer answered.

“Yeah, sure,” Marvin sighed, pushing past him and walking inside.

Asserting dominance.

Whizzer closed the door, walking to the living room himself.

On the TV (which Marvin had bought, by the way) there was a football game.

To Marvin, Whizzer’s apartment always looked the same. 

It was just a stupid, small apartment, after all.

Sure, there were things coming and going, being moved here and there, Marvin’s gifts being put on the TV stand, on the table, on the shelf. But it mostly stayed the same. The more often Marvin came around, the less he paid attention to anything. While once a tiny post-it note had attracted his attention, he was now only seeing the bed and the bathroom anymore, not caring about anything else. 

But this time there was no ignoring the mess Whizzer had made in the living room. 

Just like the first time Marvin had visited, photos were scattered on the floor, only this time they covered the entire living room carpet, Whizzer sitting down in the only little bare spot on the floor in the middle of the sea of black-and-white photographs, almost like Central Park peeking out between the grey buildings. The man had his legs crossed, sorting the photos into several different piles, while Marvin just asked himself how the fuck anyone could afford the film for all of these, let alone the cost of developing them. 

The answer to this was probably, as always, with Marvin’s money. 

That’s how.

Marvin slowly bent down, picking a photo up and turning it in his fingers.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, really.

Photos from wild, hedonistic parties, maybe. Of men in dresses or in make-up, of a life lived in excess. Photos of other men in bed like trophies or bribes or maybe both. Maybe he expected professional photos, like you’d expect to see at one of those art galleries of pretentious art students that were a dime a dozen in New York City. Photos of architecture, of sunbeams shining through a dark alley downtown, representing hope in dark times or some conceited shit like that. 

Maybe Marvin even expected photos of himself. 

They DID bump into each other quite a lot. Maybe too much for it to be accidental. Maybe Whizzer was stalking him, taking hundreds of pictures.

But the pictures weren’t of Marvin.

They weren’t of anything, really, except of a bunch of miscellaneous objects and people. Most pictures were of random buildings and parts of buildings and streets, everything without an obvious theme.

The picture Marvin was holding showed a tiny tree, having been planted by the side on what could honestly be any street. It didn’t look special. It wasn’t beautiful. 

It was a tree. 

You couldn’t even see what kind of tree it was yet. It was just a long stick with leaves poking out of it. 

Marvin sat down, picking up a couple other pictures and looking through them.

Building.

Building.

Street.

People sitting on a bench at a subway station.

Building.

Street.

A poster board.

A random guy leaned against a wall.

Street.

A kid’s shoes.

Building.

A girl at a train station.

Building.

With every picture, Marvin got angrier and angrier at the thought of how much of his own money must have went into this. Into taking these stupid snapshots. 

“What’s all of this?” he asked Whizzer, waving his hand vaguely around to point at the scattered photos on the floor.

“Ah, nothing. I’d have cleaned it up if I had known you’d come around today,” Whizzer answered.

Ah.

So that’s how this goes.

Of course Whizzer would hide all this junk he wasted Marvin’s money on.

“What else are you hiding from me?” Marvin asked, knowing full well what a bold move this was.

“What? For the thousandth time, Marvin, I am not hiding anything,” Whizzer sighed.

“Yeah, right…” Marvin mumbled, walking over to the couch and dropping down on the cushions. He watched the TV for a while, before closing his eyes, just lying there. 

After a while, he opened one eye, quietly watching Whizzer.

He was still sorting through the pictures, putting them in several different piles that all didn’t seem to make any sense: He didn’t organize them according to motive, all the buildings together and all the people, nor in any other order.

Marvin didn’t want to ask, though.

He didn’t care that much.

He didn’t want to hear Whizzer’s bullshit pretentious explanation and speech about art.

Whizzer also didn’t look like he wanted to be asked.

You’d think that sitting there would be a peaceful thing to do, but Whizzer did not look calm at all.

He was quietly talking to himself, under his breath. It was mostly a jumble of incoherent sentences like “but…if it’s 88th then I’d have to move the whole thing further back” and a bunch of cussing following every time he realized he had put a photo in the wrong pile. Marvin noticed that even now that Whizzer thought he was asleep he didn't drop the act, his hands were still shaking, fiddling with his stiches, and his body was still restlessly rocking back and forth ever so slightly. He also appeared to actually be hot, little single droplets of sweat on his forehead and tangled in his hair, although he was still only wearing his underwear and the room was freezing cold from the early morning fall air coming through the cracks in the windows.

Marvin thought about the pills in his briefcase. 

He thought about the Whizzer he had known, the calm and collected one.

But then he thought about how many embarrassing moments he had had with that Whizzer.

How stupid he had felt next to him.

How many times that Whizzer had cheated on him.

This Whizzer wasn’t cheating.

This Whizzer wasn’t cooler than him.

This Whizzer wasn’t going anywhere.

Plus, if Whizzer wouldn’t waste so much money on these stupid photos, he could just go to a psychiatrist or something!

Anyway, it had been kinda rude of that Daniel guy to just assume he would give them to Whizzer, he wasn’t a fucking carrier pigeon, was he?! 

You can’t just give your shit to complete strangers and expect them to deliver it for you.

That’s just not how the world works! 

Things get lost all the time!

Maybe the pills had gotten lost!

Maybe Marvin had just forgotten to give them to Whizzer today!

Things happen!

Anyway, this was for Whizzer’s own good!

Like this he wasn’t going out anymore and when you don’t whore every second of every day, you don’t get STDs and lose everybody’s respect.

He’d get over this silly thing.

He had to grow up sometime and stop relying on that medicine and Marvin was just helping him do that.

As Marvin snapped out of it, he realized Whizzer had turned around, looking back at him. 

He didn’t know how to describe the look in Whizzer’s eyes. 

I mean, do you ever know how to? 

These looks always only last for a couple seconds, although it sure feels longer, before someone awkwardly looks away. 

Anyway, we don’t pay attention to the other person anyway, just focused on ourselves. 

It’s like when you walk down a long hallway and there’s another person coming your direction and you have to do that thing where you pretend not to see them for a while, as to not to stare, and you look down at your shoes or pretend to fiddle with your bag or act as if the doors you’re walking past are just the most interesting thing ever and all you do is think about what the other person might be thinking of YOU and how you act and look to them. Maybe, if you know them, then you might mumble a ‘hello’ or nod awkwardly when you’re both kinda at a near distance and even after you’ve walked past them, you’re still thinking about the way you said hello and how weird you said it and how croaky your voice sounded and if you said it at the right time or had they still been too far away, and the way you nodded had been really weird and do people even nod at each other anymore or is this just a thing people did in the 50s, like lifting their hat? 

And you never, not for a second, think about the other person and how they looked and how they acted. 

And the other person probably doesn’t think of you either.

“Who’s playing? Chicago…Cubs?” Marvin tried to lighten the mood, glancing at the TV and trying to decipher the team names.

“Chicago Bears,” Whizzer answered.

“Then why do they have a C on their helmets?!”

“Cause of the C in Chicago, Marvin,” Whizzer chuckled. “I think it’s also s’posed to look like a wishbone of something, but don’t quote me on that,” he went on, appeasingly, before getting up and walking over to Marvin.

Marvin shuffled back a little, letting Whizzer lie down in front of him, his long legs dangling over the edge of the couch even more than Marvin’s, while their bodies were almost completely pressed together, on the narrow couch. Marvin put his hand on Whizzer’s back to steady him, looking into the man’s hazel eyes that were gazing back at him. 

He felt a strange feeling in his body. 

A feeling he felt like he had forgotten for a while, but that he had so often felt in the beginning. 

At their first kiss. At their first touch. 

That tingly feeling, that warm and comforting feeling.

But that feeling was also scary and it made him feel like he was losing control.

So he pushed it aside.

“How do you even like this sports stuff?” he asked Whizzer, to distract himself, looking over his shoulder at the TV, the men on the screen senselessly running around with a ball.

“I don’t know, it’s comforting to watch, I guess.” Whizzer shrugged. “I played it so much in school that I know all the rules and all that. It’s just relaxing to watch something that’s... I don't know. Regulated? Not a mess?”

“How is it even possible to do so many sports at school? You wouldn’t have any time to study”

“It’s not all at the same time, there are different seasons for each sport,” Whizzer explained, running his hands through Marvin’s hair. “Wouldn’t you know that with one kid in school?”

“Sure, Whizzer. Jason counts the days until he can finally get out on the field”

Whizzer laughed, Marvin able to feel his little breaths against his face.

“Hm, lemme think. I’m pretty sure I did football in fall, wrestling in winter and baseball in spring. I even did karate for a while, but I don’t think Nebraska’s the best state for learning that. It was such a mess. I think the teacher’s experience with karate was literally just seeing ‘Karate Kid’ at the movies”

“Wrestling, huh?” Marvin teased, making him laugh again, running his finger over the laughter lines that always formed next Whizzer’s eyes with every laugh.

“Yeah, that was one gay awakening and nightmare at the same time,” Whizzer chuckled, taking Marvin’s fingers in his hand and holding them against his lips.

Fuck.

There it was again.

The feeling.

“I think I should get Jason in some sport,” Marvin said, after a while.

“I don’t think he’d like that very much,” Whizzer chuckled, playing with Marvin's fingers.

“I don’t care if he likes it”

“Woah there, where is the Marvin I know who doesn’t believe in all this helicopter parents bullshit?”

“I just think it’d be good for him, it’ll toughen him up.”

“Marvin, he’s just a kid, he doesn’t-“ Whizzer started, but got quiet at that the look Marvin gave him, letting go of Marvin's hand and looking at the ceiling.

“Are the others here?” Marvin changed the subject, not super into talking about his son while lying next to a half-naked man.

“No, Charlotte’s at work and I think Cordelia’s at bar mitzvahs, handing out leaflets for her business, or something”

“Who are they to each other, anyway? Sisters?” Marvin asked, his lips on his neck, but Whizzer had to laugh so hard, he had to pull away.

“SISTERS?!”

“I don’t know!” 

“How would THAT work?!”

“I didn’t really think about the logistics, okay? Half-sisters?”

“No, no, no, Marvin, they are lesbians!”

“They are thespians? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“What? No, not thespians! L-l-l-lesssbians,” Whizzer repeated, still laughing.

“Are you serious?”

“Why is this such a surprise to you?”

“I don’t know,” Marvin sighed.

“You’re so stupid sometimes,” Whizzer said, obviously teasing, but Marvin wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, am I?!” he asked, giving Whizzer a glare.

“You’re just really unobservant”

“Well, sorry, if I don’t know everything about you guys’ lifestyle”

“What is THAT supposed to mean?”

“You guys’ life is just unbelievable, you have no morals at all”

“YOU are the one cheating on your wife, if I may remind you”

“Do not mention her.”

“I’ll mention her as often as I want!”

“Shut up!”

“Trina! Trina, Trina, Trina!” Whizzer repeated, before Marvin got on top of him, pinning him down onto the couch, sucking harshly into the tender skin on his neck again.

He wanted to leave a mark.

He wanted people to know what he had bought.

What was his.

And he didn’t want that weak feeling inside of himself.

“Turn over,” he ordered between breaths, moving his hands to Whizzer’s hips, feeling his soft, bare skin against his fingertips.

He really was warm, to be honest.

Marvin was concerned for a moment, moving his hand over to Whizzer’s face, touching his cheek.

He was burning up.

Marvin really didn’t want to care.

He really wanted to be a man. 

Do you think Richard cares if his wife is sick? No, he takes what he wants.

Whizzer would be fine.

“Already?” Whizzer asked.

Questioning him.

What was he talking about?!

Whizzer had sex so many times a week, a day probably, that he should be able to do this in his sleep.

“Yes, already.” Marvin stressed, nudging his hips until he turned his body around.

He slid Whizzer’s boxers down to his ankles and opened his own pants, before he unceremoniously started to push himself into him.

Whizzer squirmed, making a noise that Marvin had never heard him make before, his hand reaching behind himself.

“No, stop it! It hurts, Marvin!" he breathed out. "You can’t do it just like that, that’s not how it works! I can’t do this without anything, lube or just something!” he said, looking around the room while his trembling hand was touching Marvin's chest and was trying to push him back.

“Oh please,” Marvin sighed. “Come on, don’t be a sissy”

At this, Whizzer got silent and Marvin pushed himself closer again, pleasure running through his entire body. 

He heard Whizzer whimper again, feeling a sudden sting in his heart, but ignored it, pulling away and pushing against him again, going even harder this time.

He heard Whizzer breathe in and out loudly, as if trying to control the pain.

Marvin asked himself if Whizzer was counting in his head right now.

Or if he was solving math problems.

Probably not.

He probably thought about his stupid photos or something.

Marvin just felt pleasure.

And he felt in control.

And he felt the unexplainable sting in his heart.

Once again, he started to move faster, trying to get rid of the feeling, trying to overwhelm himself with pleasure so that it numbed him.

But it didn’t.

The noises Whizzer made just got louder in his ears.

And it felt like they were hurting him.

Like he was hurting himself.

He wanted so desperately for it to work, to be the man, to not care, to be in control.

As Whizzer finally pushed him away, it almost felt like a relief.

The man harshly shoved Marvin away and stumbled off of the couch, pulling his boxers up from his ankles. His chest was rising and falling as quickly as if he had just ran a marathon, his legs trembling as if they’d give in at any second, while his shaky hands were pressed to his side to steady them.

Marvin just silently looked down at him, pulling his own pants back up and sitting up again. 

They just looked at each other.

They didn’t scream.

Marvin would have preferred if they had screamed.

Every time they yelled at each other, every time they fought, they had this tension in the air that always made them end up in bed together.

But not this time.

This time they just stared at each other.

“Out.” Whizzer finally said, pointing to the door.

“What?”

“Get. Out.” Whizzer said, stressing every word with such an restraint that you could hear he was on the verge of losing it.

Marvin got up, slowly picking up his briefcase, walking through the kitchen into the hallway, Whizzer following him. At the front door, Marvin stopped, reaching into his briefcase. He felt the bottle of pills against his hand, but instead reached for his wallet, calmly opening it and taking out a hundred dollar bill. He then put his wallet back, reaching the money out to Whizzer.

He wasn’t sure himself, what this was.

A peace offering or a provocation.

Whizzer stared at his outreached hand.

“Go fuck yourself, Marvin.” He said, taking one step back.

“Oh, come on, Whizzer! Don’t act like this isn’t all you want from me!” Marvin replied, throwing the dollar bill at him, and it floated in the air, slowly sinking to the floor.

“What I want from you, Marvin, is for you not to be a fucking jerk all the time!” Whizzer said, almost yelling at him now, his chest still racing. 

Oh, HE was the jerk.

HE was the jerk here?!

This was it.

This had been the last straw.

“And what I want from YOU is not to be a fucking psycho and a little crybaby! Oh, are you so, so sick? Bullshit, Whizzer! Either you’re just a big fucking liar or you’re an actual lunatic! Look at you! You’re sick in the head! I can’t believe I wasted my money and my time on you, and you don’t even care, you’re not thankful at all. I wish I could take it all back! You ruined my life!”

At this, Whizzer opened his mouth, but closed it again, without saying anything. He raised his finger for Marvin to wait, before turning around and walking back into the living room. Before Marvin could ask himself what he was doing, he came back with the camera Marvin had once bought him, in his hand. 

“Here, take it back,” he said, trying to put it into Marvin’s hands.

“I don’t want it,” Marvin disagreed, refusing to take it.

“You said you want your stuff back. You can have your stuff back! Don't worry, I'll get the other things to you. I don’t give a fuck, I don’t want this shit, I never asked you for any of this!”

“You never refused to take any of it either!”

“Do you want it back or not?!” Whizzer insisted, reaching the camera out to him.

“No!” Marvin insisted as well. “I don’t want it back, although I know that this is exactly what you want me to say. You just want me to say no and still keep your stuff”

“Fine,” Whizzer shrugged, before he dropped the camera on the floor, shattering it into a million pieces. 

“Now get the fuck out of my life.” He said, forcefully shoving Marvin out of the apartment and slamming the door shut after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let's all ignore that Karate Kid came out in 1984 or something, okay? If you have the line "I was trained in karate" AND the actor who was in fucking "It's Karate, Kid!" you use every chance you get, okay??  
> Also, that thespian/ lesbian joke has been in my notes on my phone for 4 fucking months AND I AM FINALLY ABLE TO USE IT. I was waayyy too happy about this and way too proud of the pun.


	15. All the Names are Changed to Protect the Innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He opened the lid, inspecting one of the pills, turning it in his fingers. 
> 
> What had Daniel said it gives Whizzer?
> 
> Sanity.
> 
> Adjusted brain waves.
> 
> Different chemical balances.
> 
> Solutions.
> 
> Endings.
> 
> Without thinking, Marvin poured half of the bottle into the palm of his hand and threw them into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi fellas! So sorry for my absence! I couuuuld write a long paragraph now about how stressful the last weeks were because of the new semester and because I'm sick and stuff but I'll just let you guys get right on to the chapter because, oh boy, it's LONG AS FUUCKK.

“Yes, all of them!” Marvin insisted, his hand still extended to Jason. “I know there are 32 of them, come on now!” he urged as Jason reluctantly handed over another pawn.

“I have to go get ready, I’m gonna be late!” he whined, holding his gym bag closer to his chest, as if to protect the precious contents from his father’s demands.

Marvin sighed, “oh, so now you’re in a hurry? What about at home when you took 15 minutes to put on your shoes?” He asked, but finally decided to give in as he saw the other boys already jog out on the field, while Jason was still standing there, clinging to his bag with his gear in it.

Well…’gear’.

In quotation marks.

Jason’s ‘football gear’ consisted of some sweatpants that Jason had worn to bed the night before and a washed-out shirt with Yogi Bear on it, while all the other kids were already waddling around in weirdly bulky wests and adidas sweatpants.

“Just give me the chess board,” Marvin gave in, taking it from Jason, now awkwardly standing there, with four chess pieces and a chess board in his hand. “Stop sulking, you’ll get it back soon enough,” he tried to overcome the strain he had just single-handedly put on their relationship.

“I just don’t understand why you have to take them away in the first place.” Jason answered coldly.

“Because you cannot take them with you!”

“Yeah I can! I’ve done it a million times already!”

“Well, but I don’t want you to anymore.”

“Why?!”

“Maybe instead of playing against yourself you could try playing with someone else for a change”

“How can I play when I don’t have my chess board”

“You play something else. The other kids don’t want to play chess, anyway. They’d make fun of you!”

“Who cares?!”

“I care!”

“Why?! You never cared before! I don’t wanna play football! I don’t wanna give up playing chess!” Jason yelled back at him, the bag still clutched in his arms. 

Why couldn’t Jason understand that Marvin only wanted what was best for him.

Why couldn’t he just act like Marvin wanted him to act.

Why did he look at Marvin as if he was hurting him.

“Tough luck,” Marvin sighed. “It was nice enough of Richard to talk the coach into giving you another chance to try out. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful for being forced to do things I don’t wanna do?!”

Marvin laughed a short, joyless laugh. “It’ll happen often enough in your life, trust me. Go get changed now.” He answered and shook his head as Jason opened his mouth, “I don’t want to hear it. Go!” he pointed towards the other kids, and Jason trotted off, without giving him another look.

Marvin sighed, asking himself what to do now, standing there in the middle of Central Park, because the school didn’t have a gym. He looked around, a bunch of other parents standing and watching, the hard-core ones even having brought a blanket to sit on. He spotted Karen sitting on a blanket almost directly behind the little cone that marked the field, as if she wanted to have the opportunity at any given moment to jump up and join the kids. 

Marvin walked closer, trying to do a friendly smile. “Cool bag,” he joked, pointing at what was literally a cooler bag. In fact, she had so many cooler bags Marvin asked himself what they could possibly store in them. I mean, how many orange slices and bottles of water does a child need for a two hour period of running around senselessly.

“Huh?” Karen asked.

“Because it’s a cool bag but because…cool bag, you know?” he tried, but gave up. “Where’s Richard?”

“He’s at home,” Karen shrugged, not really seeming to care that much about her husband’s whereabouts or his return, for that matter.

-

78 South River Drive

Brooklyn, NY 11204

Marvin didn’t even know why the address sounded so familiar.

He didn’t know why he had come here, still sitting in his car, just staring at the large house in front of him. 

He knew he’d have to pick up Jason after practice because Trina had her stupid book club.

He knew he’d get in trouble for not being at work right now.

He knew Richard’s wife was far away right now.

He looked down at the business card on his dashboard, before his eyes wandered to the videotape next to it. 

Taking it from Whizzer’s house had, admittedly, been really stupid. But he had just been so angry after Whizzer had slammed the door shut behind him that as he had seen it lying there, next to an open trash bag that was waiting to be taken down, he had just picked it up.

An eye for an eye, I guess.

Or a ruined life and the loss of so much money for a cheap video tape that Whizzer had thrown away anyway.

Not as catchy a saying, though, is it.

It wasn’t even an exciting video tape, just a musical film called ‘Hello, Dolly’ with Barbra Streisand strutting around in a golden dress on the cover, between men in red jackets.

Yeah, it was really, really gay.

Marvin had no idea why Whizzer would throw out such a flamboyant treasure, but then again, he had also thrown out Marvin for no reason.

So now Marvin was here. 

At the last place of desperation.

Fucking Brooklyn.

As he got out of the car and walked closer to the big house, Marvin had to admit that it didn’t look as bad as he had expected, he could almost see why families moved here.

White picket fences and green front yards.

Whizzer would totally hate it here.

Maybe that was a good sign.

He rang the doorbell, somehow feeling more afraid than he had when visiting Whizzer for the first time.

It didn’t make sense.

He was doing the right thing here! 

For once, he was doing the right thing and getting help. 

But maybe that was why his fear did make sense. 

Because he was finally fighting back and it’s always hard to fight a bad habit, right? 

It’s like this one time Trina had tried to give up eating sugar, but besides that being fucking impossible (they put sugar in fucking everything these days! Even fucking bread has sugar in it), she had gotten so grumpy after like two days that Marvin had bought her some pralines pretending for it to be a romantic gesture, but it was actually a rescue mission so that she wouldn’t murder him and Jason in her sleep.

“Yeah?” a kid answered the door.

A hello would have been nice, but Marvin had learnt not to expect anything from kids these days.

“Hello Trevor, is your Dad home?” Marvin asked, knowing the boy all too well from ‘Take Your Kid to Work Day’ where, although he was a couple years older, his favorite thing to do was torment Jason or to crumble up important papers and play basketball with them. 

Fair to say, he wasn’t going to pursue any career with any future, but he continuously told everyone who didn’t care at all that he was great at dunking, so that’s something.

Marvin couldn’t figure out if Trevor recognized him or why he wasn’t in school, his face just staying in that dumb standstill, but at least the boy nodded and turned around, Marvin following him inside.

Marvin had known Richard for a long time now. They had just always stayed in the same office after college, like it’s every American’s dream. But Marvin had never been at Richard’s house before.

He did know that he lived in Brooklyn and he did know that he lied about that on school application forms, so that his kids could go to school on 76th street, but he didn’t know anything else.

That’s just how it goes.

As an adult, you just don’t do that kind of thing anymore: You pretend to like each other at work and say hello on the street, but you don’t come over, have sleepovers and braid each other’s hair, for crying out loud.

The first thing Marvin noticed about the inside of his house, while walking through the hallway, was the smell. With five sons and one daughter living in the house, Marvin supposed he had just expected something else, but it smelt like the stinging scent of disinfectant and floor cleaner. The whole house was impeccably clean, almost as if someone had tried to clean up a crime scene, even backpacks and shoes all in their assigned places. 

Trevor led the way, currently fumbling with a hard candy he had gotten out of the pocket of his gym shorts, plopping it into his mouth and dropping the wrapper on the polished tile floor with such a nonchalance that made Marvin almost shudder.

He didn’t say anything, though.

I mean, would you?

It was the boy’s home, after all.

It’s like when you walk behind someone on the sidewalk and they litter. 

What are you even supposed to do?

Do that awkward little jog and squeeze in front of them and tell them to pick it back up?

No one does that.

Not even fucking Gandhi would do that.

It’s just too awkward.

The people who litter KNOW it’s wrong.

If they’re over the age of two, they fucking know.

If their parents couldn’t teach them how to behave, how can you now?

The walls of the hallway were lined in family photos, just like at Marvin’s house. 

Many things were just like at Marvin’s house.

Wedding pictures, honeymoon pictures, pregnancy pictures, school pictures.

The only difference were the pictures of kids in sport jerseys with serious faces, holding trophies into the camera instead of pictures of a kid pulling faces while having a self-made paper crown on their head.

“Dad!” Trevor called, hammering against the door of what Marvin guessed to be Richard’s office.

“What did I tell you about disturbing me?” Richard barked back, “Go back to practicing! If someone’s dying, you are old enough to call an ambulance by yourself!”

“Marvin’s here!” the kid defended himself, crossing his arms. At that, Marvin could hear footsteps approaching the door.

“Marvin!” Richard said, opening the door, his arms reached out as if to hug him, but Marvin interpreted it more like an open gesture than an invitation. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hi! I don’t even know why I’m here myself” Marvin said with a helpless fake smile, following Richard, immediately taking in the strong smell of alcohol in the air.

Now that he was here, he didn’t really know why he had come in the first place.

When he had come to Whizzer, he had known what he wanted.

Sex.

Plain and simple.

Here he wanted Richard to teach him how to be…what exactly?

A normal husband? A normal man?

No matter what Richard said, this stuff just can’t be taught.

Some people are just hopeless cases.

Maybe Marvin was just too far gone by now to ever be normal again.

“Hey, listen, Marvin! Good that you're here! Do you ever feel like whatever you do, it’s not enough?” Richard asked, straight away, closing the door after himself. He picked up a baseball trophy from the shelf, looking it over. “State Championship with my high school team” he explained as he showed it to Marvin, absently polishing it with the sleeve of his button-up.

Eh.

Okay.

Strange introduction but okay.

“I…” Marvin mumbled, just staring back at Richard. “Listen, uh, how much have you been drinking?” he asked, instead of answering, eyes wandering to the open bottle of whiskey on the table.

Although he had known the other man for quite a while now, he had never seen him act like this. There had been the occasional Christmas party to which Trina had forced Marvin to go (like, what the hell, they didn’t even celebrate Christmas, why did he have to go to some ignorant shit like this) where Richard had had one or two drinks more than were good for him, but he usually just got really lewd and annoying, rather than contemplative. This, however, seemed like something Richard was used to doing at home, judging from his liquor cabinet, the bottles all mostly empty. He looked back at Richard, catching him staring at him.

“Your eyes are really blue, Marvin,” he informed him.

“Yeah, well, what can you do,” Marvin shrugged.

“No, it’s cool, I’ve always liked that about you. Because your hair is brown and dark, but your eyes are blue and light. How did you do that?!”

“Genetics?”

“Dope.” Richard nodded. “Hey, Marvin, do you think all of our lives just peak in high school and it just goes downwards from there until we eventually die, but it doesn’t even matter, because there’s nothing to live for anymore, anyway?” he asked, casually.

“Uhh,” Marvin said, thinking about his 18-year-old-self going to a math club meeting instead of prom. “Yeah, I don’t think I really peaked in high school.”.

“You’re one of the lucky ones,” Richard answered.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ve ever peaked in life”

“That just means you still have that to come,” Richard shrugged.

Okay, since when did that guy become nice..?!

Maybe Marvin should just spike this coffee with whiskey every morning and it’d make the day much more enjoyable.

Although, Richard probably already did that.

“What are you talking about?” Marvin sighed, leaning against the desk, getting weary of just standing there in the middle of the room like an idiot. “You have a house, you have a wife, you have fou- fiv-…so many healthy kids”

“Whatever, it’s bullshit,” Richard shrugged.

“It’s not bullshit! Some people live on the street, starving to death and you’re complaining about… what exactly? That you used to be good at sports and still are?! Your life is perfect! I wish I had your life!”

“You don’t get it”

“Yeah, I guess I really don’t.”

“It’s all a lie, Marvin. Everything is just a fucking lie!”

“What is a lie?!”

“All of this!” Richard said, setting the trophy down and picking up a vase full of decorative pinecones. “I mean, what is this?! What do we need that for?” he asked, juggling it around. “This whole house is just filled with crap! The kids are just doing what they want, I try to tell them what’s best for them and they don’t listen. My wife’s just sleeping around with the pool boy or the gardener or the handyman or whoever and I don’t even care!”

“But you said…-“

“Yeah, I said, I said. That’s how the world works, you say a bunch of shit and people believe you”

“Why are you even telling me this?! Why did you even give me your card if you didn’t want me to come over and find this out? Why would you lie to me all the time, why would you show off so much?!”

Richard put the vase down, staring back at him, while stepping closer. Marvin thought for a second that he was going to slap him, his whole body tensing up until 

Richard pressed his lips against Marvin’s.

Marvin pulled away immediately, staring back at Richard. 

“Yeah, ha ha. Very funny.” He said annoyedly. “This some kind of prank? Did you hide a camera or is someone gonna jump out of the closet?”

Richard frowned, looking back at him. “It’s not a prank”

“Yeah, right. Come on, you had your fun. Now just tell me.”

“It’s not a prank!” Richard repeated.

“As if! This is tota-“ Marvin started, before Richard pressed his lips back on his, pressing his body on the desk, picture frames and paper weights falling to the floor in a loud crash.

Okay, listen.

It wasn’t like Marvin felt nothing.

Physically, he felt his hand cling to his back, Richard’s lips clumsily moving around, sucking on Marvin’s bottom lip.

Mentally, he did feel more than he felt when kissing Trina, which probably was a very clear sign of the final nail in the coffin that was their marriage

But it still didn’t feel too much.

It wasn’t like it had been with Whizzer.

He would have imagined that it would.

If Whizzer could sleep with a different stranger every night, then it must feel equally good with every man, right?

And Richard really wasn’t that unattractive.

Marvin tried kissing him back, tasting the whiskey on his lips and running his hands through his black hair. This response seemed to take Richard by surprise, but he happily let him do it, pressing their bodies closer together. Marvin ran his fingers over his muscular arms. He placed a kiss on Richard’s chin, feeling his stubble against his lips, before kissing his neck, while Richard still seemed to be a little lost, but enjoying every second of it judging by the sounds he was making.

Marvin thought it was…meh.

It did shut his brain off, which was nice.

It did turn him on.

But it didn’t give him that warm and fuzzy feeling, like when he was with Whizzer.

This weight that seemed to pull them together.

This feeling that made him feel like nothing else mattered in that moment. 

That it was just the two of them.

And right now Marvin felt the realization deep down in his bones that it would never be like that ever again.

That it would never again be just the both of them.

That Whizzer didn’t want it anymore.

That he had fucked it up.

And for what.

For a lie.

For Richard’s fucking stupid lie.

Marvin pulled back, rubbing his hand over his eye, trying to pull himself together again. He felt Richard’s hand leave his back, the other man letting his arms hang by his side, almost helplessly, while looking back at Marvin.

“I did try this once before,” Richard started. “There was this guy and he was with another guy, so I thought…- I don’t know. I wrote down my address and gave it to him and told him I’d pay him a lot. He never came, though. I shouldn’t have done it either. I don’t know what I was thinking giving him my address, he could have robbed me or I don’t know, kidnap my kids or something. He probably wasn’t even…you know.”

Marvin thought about the note on Whizzer’s corkboard, suddenly remembering where he had seen Richard’s address before.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he said.

“Have you…done this before? You’re good at this…”

“I go to therapy,” Marvin answered, not even knowing why he told Richard all of this. That guy was still a dick. He was still a total douchebag, just now a douchebag who could ruin Marvin’s entire life.

“Maybe I should try that,” Richard answered.

“Yeah, well, as you can see, it works absolute wonders,” Marvin sighed. “Can you maybe not tell the entire office about this, though?” he asked.

“Do you think I’m a complete idiot?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Marvin answered, making Richard chuckle. 

“That’s fair,” he said then. “I’m not gonna tell anyone about this. I don’t want my life ruined”

“Yeah…” Marvin sighed. “I have to go,” he added, taking a step back.

“Okay,” Richard said, stepping back as well.

He looked unsure at first, shy even.

“If you tell anybody about this, you’re dead, Marvin,” he said then, his voice ice cold.

-

Marvin didn’t go to work after this.

He just went home.

Exhausted.

Mentally.

Physically.

He walked over to the living room, trying to take off his coat, but hadn’t set down his briefcase yet, so that he got his sleeve stuck at his hand. He cursed, dropping his briefcase and then throwing his coat on the floor, in a sudden state of fury.

He hated this.

His fucking home.

His fucking life.

The sound the briefcase made as it hit the hardwood floor, was loud and sharp, the metal clasp on its side snapping open and the contents tumbling outside.

“Fucking hell,” Marvin cursed, watching his pencils roll under the couch, papers full of numbers flying around, their meticulous order now destroyed. 

Marvin knelt down next to it, trying to sort them again, trying to gather the things back up. Between the papers lay also the video tape he had taken from Whizzer’s place.

It looked out of place between all the neat forms with its bold color and its playful images.

He picked it up, the memory stinging him like a sharp knife, quickly putting it back down next to the VCR without putting it in.

He put the papers back in the case, reaching under the couch to recollect his pencils, also pulling out the little bottle of pills.

Whizzer’s pills.

Whizzer’s pills that he had.

Because he was an arsehole like that.

He opened the lid, inspecting one of the pills, turning it in his fingers. 

Sanity.

Different brain waves.

Different chemical balances.

Solutions.

Endings.

Without thinking, he poured half of the bottle into the palm of his hand and threw them into his mouth.

For a second he actually thought he had found the solution to all his problems.

He felt calm and clear.

Then he felt a panic.

A panic that was deep in his bones.

A panic that made him jump up and run to the bathroom, pushing his finger down his throat.

He didn’t cry as he felt his body heaving.

As he was done, he dropped the bottle of pills on the bathroom floor, walking back to the living room, to the phone.

-

It only took a few beeps until someone picked up, but to Marvin it sounded like an eternity.

“Mendel Weisenbac-“

“Life is meaningless. Why do we keep living when all that happens in life hurts us. Even the good things always have to end eventually. There is no sense in the want to keep living.” Marvin interrupted his ridiculously long name.

“Carl?”

“What? No, it’s Marvin”

“Ohhh, Marvin! How are you doing?” 

“Not too good”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mendel answered.

Marvin was taken aback for a second, before a glance at the bathroom door reminded him why he had called in the first place. He pressed his hand against his face for a second, the other one clenched around the receiver.

“Are you alright?” he heard Mendel ask after a moment of silence, as Marvin tried to transform his feelings into words but failed miserably.

“Not really. I just tried t-“

“Did something happen with your wife?”

“No, I-”

“How is she doing?”

Marvin frowned. “Uh, fine, I…guess? But that’s not really why I cal-“

“I saw her the other day when she dropped Jason off and we had a little chat, you know?”

“That’s…nice?”

“It was really, really nice, yes! She made quite an impression!”

“Okay?” 

“You always talk about how cold she is but she was so nice! Just very, very, very nice!”

Marvin lowered his body to the ground, sitting down on the floor, his back leaning against the couch. “Mendel-“ he started again, but was interrupted.

“Marvin! You have to tell me! It’s purely for scientific research, but does your wife sleep nude?”

“No?” Marvin answered, feeling the blood rush to his face. He felt himself get angry, get frustrated, but he still wanted to talk to Mendel. 

He wanted to finally tell him everything. 

Because apparently this was the only option.

Because apparently he had reached the end of the line.

Mendel was supposed to be trained at this!

He’d tell him what to do!

“Mhm! Very interesting,” Mendel said meanwhile.

“Mendel-,” Marvin started again, desperately trying to get the words out.

About his gay lover.

About fucking things up with his gay lover.

About fucking things up with his son.

“Does she ever talk about me?” Mendel asked, and Marvin put the phone back on the hook. 

-

He stared blankly at the still open bathroom door, before looking over at the TV in front of him, Whizzer’s video tape still lying next to the VCR. Before the rage about the whole situation could fill his body again, he slowly reached over, inserting it, watching the screen light up and Barbra Streisand’s voice filling the room. 

He leaned back, just watching the red-haired woman with a big hat dance around a 1890s New York. 

Weirdly, it calmed him down, finally filling the deafening silence of the room with something else than his own thoughts. He sat there for a while, just watching routine after routine, song after song, before during a song about putting on your Sunday clothes, the picture slowly disappeared, grey static filling the entirety of the screen. 

Great. 

Thanks, Whizzer.

Of course his stuff wouldn’t work, what had Marvin even expected?! 

To be fair, Marvin had picked the tape out of Whizzer’s trash.

But still!

He just stared at the screen, too lazy to get up, just watching the grey friction sizzling over the dark metal box’s glass, thinking his eyes would slowly go blind with the picture of it engraved in his mind. 

-

“Test! Test! One, two, three!” Suddenly the voice of a kid said, startling Marvin, who, for a second, thought Jason and Trina had come home, until he realized that it came from the TV. 

The screen was not filled with static anymore, now showing the face of a boy, around ten or eleven years old. He was fumbling around with the camera, staring intensely at the lens as he inspected it, Marvin able to see his dark hazel eyes and messy dirty blonde hair that fell into them.

As he put the camera down, the screen went static again.

Marvin frowned, scooting closer to the TV. 

Just as he thought that the boy might have been a figment of his imagination, the picture on the TV changed again. 

The boy had apparently pressed the recording button again, backing away from the camera and standing in what seemed to be a living room. 

He had, what Trina would probably describe as, a skinny frame, the grey shirt he was wearing way too big for him, falling over his narrow shoulders down to his athletic shorts and skinny legs. 

“Hi,” the boy said. He shifted almost insecurely, eyes rushing around the room, flashcards clenched in his hands.

The room, or rather the corner of the room the camera was focused on, had a small old couch in the corner and a TV in front of it, a telenovela playing on the glimmering screen, the volume turned off. 

“Ma, look! I’m gonna start now!” he called to someone, a woman lying on the couch in the shadows, staring at the TV that wasn’t making a sound. She didn’t answer either, but the boy smiled at the camera.

“Hi, autie Caroline! Mom said it was okay for me to record over this tape and you said on the phone that you wanted to see my presentation for the history fair, so I’m making this video so you can see it!” he said, waving his hand a little.

“So, yeah.” He started, “Uh, so, my character’s Alexander Hamilton aaand” he looked down at his cards, “he was born on the 11th of January 1755 and- no wait. My teacher said we have to start our presentations with: hi, my presentation is about Alexander Hamilton. Orr, I am Alexander Hamilton, I guess. Because I have to dress up like him too! Uh, yeah. He was born on blah blah, I said that. Okay. He died on…-“ he looked down at his cards, “July 12th, 1804. That made him- uhh” he paced through the room.

‘49 years old,’ Marvin thought immediately , rolling his eyes, watching the boy count with his fingers.

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy decided. “He…was one of the founding fathers. That’s important. I think. He was America’s first Treasury Secretary and-“ his voice trailed off as he spotted a tiny toy soldier on the floor, picking it up and looking at it.

“Hamilton was the founder of the Coast Guard…” he said after a while, still turning the toy in his fingers, before making the soldier fly up in the air, throwing him up. He watched the figurine fall back down on the carpet, before speaking on. “He also founded the New York Post,” he said, his voice trailing off again. “Hang on, I’m hungry,” he said, walking through a door and out of the room. As he came back, he was chewing on an energy bar. 

“I’ll start over!” he announced to the camera. “Look, Mom! Watch! Watch me!” he told his mom, who still wasn’t paying attention to him. He looked back at her for a moment, before putting a smile back on and instead turning to an imaginary audience, dramatically turning his back to the camera. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he said, spinning back around, grinning, using the energy bar as a microphone. “Thank you for coming to my show! Today’s topic is Alexander Hamilton! I will be your host for tonight, my name is -“ he stopped, just standing there, thinking for a while.

“Alexander Hamilton? I guess? No, that’s weird, he can’t be the host, he’s the guest! Or should I use my actual name? My name is A- No, no, that’s stupid. It has to be a cool name. I’d say my name isss… Lorcan Brown! No, Raiden Brown! No…” he said. “My name is Damon Brown. Do you like that name, Mom?” he asked, but his mother still stared at the TV, scratching her forearm.

The boy looked down at the floor, before going on explaining. „I like that name because, get this, Mr. Glen told me this: in Greek mythology, she knows a lot about that stuff, there’s this guy who’s named Damon and he risks his life for his friend and they vow never to let each other down and I think that’s really cool. I have that friend at school and he’s really cool too… I really like him. I like the way we play cards and how fast he can run and I like the way he laughs and how his eyes-” He stopped, shaking his head.

“Soo…Hamilton,” he quickly tried again. “He was born on a small island in the Caribbean Sea. Try saying that word really fast three times! Caribbean! Caribbean! Caribbean!” he smiled proudly, before looking back down at his cards. 

“As a teenager he then went to New York and became a war hero and stuff, wait-“ he ran across the room, getting his little soldier figurine again . “Like this!” he said, holding it into the camera, that wasn’t focusing on it. “Well, not exactly like this. This is a guy from the other war, the big one. He’s must have been really brave. My dad said that soldiers are the most honorable guys in society. They are big and strong and have guns and shoot people! But Hamilton doesn’t really look that strong…It’s weird that he went to New York after that, too…” he stopped for a moment, looking down at his flashcards. “My dad says New York is for fags,” he said then, putting emphasize on the word, an unusual look of disgust on his young face.

He started to paced around the room. “Hamilton didn’t have a dad. Well, he had one but he died or something and then his mom died too. But anyway, MY mom has a new handkerchief, hang on!” he ran back through the room, to the couch. 

With the boy having left the center of the frame, the camera focused on the whole room and the woman got much more clearer. She was wrapped in a blanket, a blue handkerchief in her hand. One of her sleeves was rolled up, exposing her arm that had a dark red rash on it, her body shaken by coughs every now and then that Marvin hadn’t really been able to hear before with the boy constantly talking. The boy was now carefully walking up to her, saying something before she handed him the blue handkerchief with some reluctance.

“It’ll only take a second, I promise!” he assured her, before he ran back to the camera.

“I think it’s really pretty!” he said, smiling brightly as he held it up to the camera, Marvin able to see little specs of blood staining the fabric. “Look it! My mom calls it navy blue! I like the color a lot. But anyway, liking this stuff is for girls. You have to remember that, ladies and gentlemen!” he said sternly, but had the big grin back on his face as he tied it around his head, playfully twirling his short hair in his fingers.

“Watch, Mom! Doesn’t that look prettyyy?” he called, putting on the voice of an elderly lady, turning back to her and presenting his results.  
For a moment, his mother smiled back at him, before she coughed again, reaching her hand back out for the handkerchief. The kid immediately hurried over to her, reaching up to take it off before he froze at the noise from the door. Quickly, he now yanked it off his own head, almost chocking himself as it got stuck around his neck. He threw it back next to his mother, picking up his flashcards from the floor as the door was opened.

“Ah. There you are.” A man said, as he entered the room. His voice was calm and his movements swift, while the little boy clenched his fingers around his flashcards, his whole body tensing up. “You mind telling me what exactly you think you are doing here?” the man asked.

“I…-“ the kid started, hesitantly looking around.

“Because according to my watch – correct me, if I’m wrong – you have practice right now.” The man said, towering over the child. He was wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, his shoulders, like his whole figure, broad and muscular. On his hands was something that looked like motor oil. 

“I thought…- I just wanted –I just wanted to go home early and practice my presentation and show it to Mom and-“

“Oh, of fucking course: mommy here, mommy there! You’re a little momma’s boy, that’s what you are!” the man now got mad while the kid dug his fingernails into his hand, staring at the floor. “I told you to go to practice and you listen to ME! Look at her! She’s sick, okay?! You are only bothering her when you’re here. Instead, you should maybe, I don’t know, try to make her proud?”

“Baseball is the most important thing for you right now, you understand me?!” the man went on. “It’ll finally toughen you crybaby up! You need to be stronger, boy! You can’t be a fucking sissy all your life! You need to be a man! You can’t become a man when you’re spending your day with your mommy, daydreaming all day.” He nudged the kid, the boy wincing harshly, which only made him laugh.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. All I want to do is protect you from that and all I ask for is for you to not be a little bitch all the time. You understand me?!”

“Yes, sir…”

“If you miss practice one more time, I swear to god, you better don’t come home at all. It’s embarrassing. YOU are embarrassing me. Do you want that, Andrew?!” 

“No, sir…”

“Damn right you don’t, because you know what happens when you make me mad. That’s how a REAL man handles these kind of situations! You should be so thankful! I waste all my money and time on you!” he breathed out in exhaustion. “Good lord, I can’t believe I wasted my name on you! Do you know that?! My great-grandfather’s name, my grandfather’s name, my father’s name, then mine. All real men. All strong men. And then I passed it on to you. And you are…like this.”

“I haven’t missed a ball all season!”

“Oh, you’re talking back to me now?! So that’s how it works now? Suddenly you have balls?! Let me make this very clear: I don’t care if you haven’t missed a ball yet, you’re playing with fucking children, okay? It’s not impressive, it’s not even hard. I don’t want you to miss a single ball in practice either! No mistakes. You must be better. If these kids run five laps, you run ten. If these kids practice two hours, you practice four! Tell me again, how many hours did you practice today…?!”

“I’m sorry…”

“Yeah, great, you’re sorry. What use is that? All I ask of you is to not be such a fucking pussy. That’s all! Am I really asking too much here? Just don’t be a loser! Everybody hates lame ducks, Andrew. Everybody hates a loser. You want to grow up to be a fairy? You want to get beaten up? You want to prance around all day?! I didn’t think so. ”

The boy nodded.

“Now go get your bat and shit. I’ll drive you to the field and you stay there until I say it’s good enough. You can do your stupid presentation on the bus tomorrow. I’ll wait in the car, I can’t look at this…” The man said, walking back out the front door.

The little boy, Andrew, stared at the door, sinking back on the couch, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

He didn’t cry.

He just stared at the door as if it was an abyss he could never return from.

The woman moved a little, reaching her arm out. It seemed for a second like she wanted to hug the boy, but she reached past him to the blue handkerchief, silently putting it back into his hands. 

“Now come on, get to practice, hm? You already can’t sit still here,” she said, her voice raspy and quiet, the words sounding as if they were hurting her as she said them with a smile on her face.

“I don’t like going there.” He said, without smiling back at her.

“Your father knows what’s best for you. You have to trust him.”

The boy looked back at her, before he got back on his feet, the handkerchief still in his hand, but he now looked unsure what to do with it.

“Why do I have to become someone else for people to like me?”

“Because you can’t stay like this forever, Andrew. You can’t just get distracted all the time and whiz around the place.”

“Why?”

“It’s not what men do.”

“Why?” 

“Because! You have to be something, Andrew! Let’s be honest, you’re not a genius, no whiz, you’re never going to be a business man or a doctor, so your best shot is being an athlete. Like this you’ll have a future, get a wife, have normal life!”

“What do you care what kind of man I grow up to be?! You’re gonna die before I even become a teenager!” was the last thing Marvin heard before the boy had reached the camera, turning it off again.

-

Marvin didn’t know for how long he stared at the TV after this.

For how long he tried to make sense of what he had just seen.

Of what it meant.

Of why it made him feel so awful.

Of why it felt like he had just seen something he had never been supposed to see.

He heard the front door open, feeling a strange feeling in his gut as he realized it must be his wife and son. 

His wife.

His son.

He was the father.

After seeing this, it felt wrong.

It felt strange.

“Hello, honey.” Trina said, as she walked through the door and inside the living room, taking her coat off.

“Hey,” he said, the strange feeling spreading.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” she laughed and he surprised himself as he smiled back. He stood back up, touching her hand. 

He didn’t feel love for her, right then and there.

Not really.

But he knew he felt something.

He felt sorry, most of all.

“Where’s Jason?” he sighed, knowing now who to apologize the most to.

Trina froze at his words, staring back at him.

“What?”

“Where’s Jason? Did he go right upstairs? Is he still mad at me? I need to apologize to hi-”

“Marvin, YOU were supposed to pick Jason up today!”

Marvin’s heart sank. “I…-“ he started.

“Did you not pick him up?!” Trina asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and worry.

With fear.

“I- I forgot.. I thought you-“ 

“And he didn’t come home?!”

“No, he isn’t here... he-“

Jason was missing.

He had not picked him up.

He was his father and he had forgotten to pick him up.

And now he was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you it was long!! 
> 
> While writing this, I actually wanted to split it in two separate chapters, but I thought you guys have already suffered enough ;)
> 
> Btw, the video tape scene was actually written really early in the process, like after I finished the third chapter or so, I'm just such a sucker for sad backstories, it's actually ridiculous. But anyway, I hope Marvin's constant nagging about Whizzer's name is finally put to rest with this.
> 
> Also, question: while reading the chapter, did you guys remember that Marvin would have had to pick Jason up and did it keep nagging you all throughout until the end or did you just kinda forget? I'm just curious haha


	16. He Thinks I'm Cruel but Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He told me I have pretty eyes,” Marvin informed Whizzer.
> 
> “Oh, did he now?” Whizzer chuckled.
> 
> “Mhm,” Marvin teased, resting his head on Whizzer’s hair. It smelt like strawberries. Of fucking course it did. “He said they looked good with my dark hair.”
> 
> “That bird’s nest?” 
> 
> “Yup”
> 
> “You should have fucked him then, I guess,” Whizzer shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve Eve, y'all!  
> Here's some proper fluff to make up for all the pain I caused you over the last few months!

Even in the city that never sleeps, night time is creepy.

Pretty much everything suddenly becomes creepy in the dark.

Schools.

Shops.

Even your own room at home.

It was dark outside, streets only lit by the dim street lights. There were still tons of people roaming around, but instead of the tourist families and workaholic yuppies, they were drunk undergrads, drug dealers and homeless people. At least that’s what Marvin guessed they were, they were mostly just dark shadows rushing along their way, seeing him as just one of them.

But he wasn’t.

They were laughing and drinking and dancing, while he felt like he was losing his mind.

Jason must be so scared right now.

That was if he still had the luxury of being scared and was not lying dead in a ditch already.

Marvin pressed his hand to his lips, pressing his eyes shut, trying to get the image out of his head, trying to concentrate.

Trina was at the police station, but he hadn’t been able to just sit there and do nothing.

They said they send out cars to look for Jason, but Marvin hadn’t seen a single one in the hours he had been rushing around the streets searching for Jason.

The police in New York were busy. Drug deals, busting gay bars, murder, theft. Sure, a missing kid was important, but other things came up all the time.

Marvin had searched at all the places he could think of already: Jason’s new school, his old school, the playground, the Jewish Center. 

The kid was nowhere to be found.

Now Marvin was just aimlessly walking through the streets, freezing to his bone in the cold fall air. He had just thrown on a coat, having forgot to put his socks back on, his dress shoes scaving up the skin on his heels. 

Marvin didn’t care.

He didn’t care about anything right now.

Only about finding Jason.

Nothing else mattered.

It was a weird feeling.

It wasn’t really like a feeling at all.

Just like a drive.

Like his brain was totally turned off and a kind of survival mode had kicked in, ushering him through these streets, freeing him from all his own problems, instead filling him with a devastating, never-ending fear.

He hurried through another rather crowded street, close to some clubs, looking through the masses, but only ever able to see people that resembled Jason at first but didn’t come close at second sight. He pushed the people standing in queues, dancing and smoking cigarettes in front of the clubs aside carelessly. 

They should think of him whatever they wanted.

He didn’t care.

He just wanted to find Jason.

As he pushed his way through the crowd, accidentally pushing too hard, a tall guy stumbling and falling down on the concrete. Marvin just walked on, until he heard the man call after him.

“What do you think you’re doi- wait, Marvin?! Was that on purpose?! What is fucking wrong with you?” 

It was Whizzer.

And some other guy.

Marvin didn’t care.

“No.” He yelled back at the other man, still walking.

“Like hell it was! You’re such an arsehole, just leave me alone, will you?”

“I am right now!” Marvin snapped, throwing his hands up before he suddenly stopped, turning back around. “Whizzer, have you seen Jason?” he asked, looking at the man who was about 30 feet away by now, still cursing and brushing the dirt off his pants.

“Huh?” Whizzer asked, Marvin having to gather an immense amount of strange to tame himself and walk closer again, instead of running and checking the next street and the next street and the next street and the next street.

“Have you seen Jason?” he repeated.

“No,” Whizzer frowned, Marvin’s heart sinking, the man turning back around again to go on searching. Whizzer put his hand around his arm, holding him back. “Why? Isn’t he at home?!”

“No, he isn’t. Do you- do you have any idea where he might be?” Marvin asked, trying to stop his stupid voice from shaking.

“I don’t know…Did he run away?! What happened?!” Whizzer asked, hand still firmly around Marvin’s arm.

“Whizzer, I don’t have time! Let go of me!”

“Is this one of your stupid psycho tricks again? To get close to me?! Because that’d be SO fucking wrong, pretending like your son is missing to get my compassi-”

“I don’t want anything from you, okay?! Just let me go, I need to search for Jason!” Marvin insisted, trying to wiggle out of Whizzer’s grasp.

“So he really is missing? Did you look at his school? The playground?” Whizzer tried, getting increasingly nervous the more he looked at Marvin.

Marvin closed his eyes again, before yanking his arm away, starting to walk away. “Yeah, I’ve been there already…”

“Marvin!” he heard Whizzer call, followed by a “shit! Sorry, I gotta go,” to the other guy, before he jogged up to Marvin.

“I want to help!”

Marvin only nodded shortly, looking along the streets.

He didn’t really care.

He just wanted to find Jason.

He just wanted to know he was save.

-

Marvin and Whizzer didn’t talk.

Or, at least Marvin didn’t talk.

Whizzer talked occasionally.

He said stuff about checking in hidden alley ways.

Or stuff about going into shops.

He talked to clerks and by passers, asking them if they had seen Jason.

No one had.

Marvin didn’t talk.

He felt like he couldn’t.

He felt like his brain wasn’t allowing him to form words, to look at people, to think about alleys, to concentrate on anything else than finding Jason.

He didn’t pay attention to Whizzer either, the other man having to run after Marvin as he already walked on as Whizzer was still talking, or randomly took a turn.

He didn’t talk to Whizzer either.

Whizzer asked him one time if he was okay.

He didn’t answer. 

Of course he wasn’t.

Maybe he would never be again.

“Wait!” Marvin suddenly exclaimed, his own voice sounding strange after this long period of silence.

“What?” Whizzer asked, taken aback by Marvin’s sudden outburst.

“I think I know where he is,” Marvin said suddenly, turning on his heels and walking back into the opposite direction.

“Where?” Whizzer asked, as he turned around as well, following him, but Marvin didn’t answer. He just kept on walking as fast as he could, hoping that he was right and that he’d get there before it’d close and Jason would have to go wander off somewhere else. By 72nd Street, he broke into a run, Whizzer still following, but hanging behind a little, since he didn’t know where they were going. 

When they reached 76th Street, Marvin hesitantly opened the gate, rushing into the park. 

Just like in the streets, the families and tourists were long gone from the wide, plain fields of grass and instead, homeless people were making their beds under the trees and young couples were doing the opposite under them. 

Marvin walked along the path, until he found what he was looking for: a row of benches, each with a little stone table in front of them. The benches all were empty, except for one. 

Marvin’s heart skipped a beat, as he walked closer, feeling like he was going to pass out, like he was going to break down and cry out of relief and exhaustion, as he saw Jason sitting there.

He slowed down a little, only now realizing how his heart was pounding in his chest, how he was panting from having run 3 blocks straight. 

Jason didn’t notice him standing there in the dark.

The kid was sitting on one of the benches, his legs dangling in the air, his school bag on the ground beside him. He was playing a game of chess against himself on the checkerboard that was carved into the stone table. He was playing with the few figurines that Marvin had let him keep this afternoon, the others replaced by different stones, paper clips or other things he seemed to have found on the ground. Although he was wearing his jacket, he was freezing, his body shivering. He didn’t seem to notice, though, absorbed into the game he was playing, moving a mud soaked binkie to capture a barbie doll shoe.

Marvin felt Whizzer’s eyes on him, hearing the other man panting as well, but he wasn’t moving closer to Jason either. Marvin wasn’t too sure how to react himself. He had been so preoccupied with the search for Jason that he hadn’t thought about what to do when he found him. 

Storm at him? Yell? That’s what had gotten them into this situation in the first place…

Slowly, he approached Jason, as though he was a wild animal he didn’t want to scare. He sat down on the bench on the other side of the chessboard, opposite to Jason.

Jason still didn’t see him at first, eyes fixed on the board, before he glanced up for a second as he noticed something shading the light from the street light. He startled as he saw Marvin, staring up at him with fear in his eyes.

“Whose turn is it?” Marvin asked, surprised at himself for managing to get out words at all.

Jason didn’t answer, just silently pointing at Marvin’s side.

Marvin looked down at the board, before moving a broken ‘I Love New York’ keychain, which he guessed was supposed to act as a pawn, one space forward. “Looks like you’re winning, huh?” he asked calmly, pointing at Jason’s queen, a little Polly Pocket, that had Marvin’s king, the corner of a paper Burger King crown, in a quandary.

“It’s a little harder to play that side because I can’t turn this board,” Jason explained, his voice quiet and unsure, making Marvin's heart sting at the memory of taking away Jason's chess board this afternoon.

Marvin nodded, looking over the board. “That your rook?” he asked, pointing at a wine cork. Jason nodded, before Marvin captured it with the keychain. “You have to watch your left better, look here, it’s wide open,” he said, smiling at Jason. 

It wasn’t a smile because he wanted to beat Jason and win, nor was it a smile because he felt smarter.

It was an honest smile at the passion in the kid’s eyes.

“That was a pretty good move, actually,” Jason answered, seeming slowly to forget the surrealism of the situation and get back into the game.

“Don’t you dare sound so surprised, you already forgot who taught you?” Marvin chuckled. 

Jason smiled slightly, shrugging innocently, as he captured Marvin’s knight, one of the few actual chess figurines in the game.

“I played against some other people here at the park, but they were stupid,” he informed Marvin. “They thought I was stupid at first, cause I’m a kid and cause of my figurines, but when I beat them, they didn’t anymore. They just walked off and sulked or something, especially those old grandpas”

“I wish I could have seen that,” Marvin answered.

“Yeah…” Jason mumbled. “Are you really, really mad?” he asked then.

Marvin rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing as he leaned back against the bench. “I don’t think I have any energy left to be mad, Jason…”

“Is Mom mad?”

“I don’t think so. She’s just sick with worry. We both were.”

“I’m sorry…” Jason mumbled, staring down at the game, but clearly not thinking about it anymore. “I just…didn’t want to come home and then I stayed here and it got later and later, and the later it got the more angry I though you guys would be at me and the more scared I got”

It was fine. It was totally fine. Marvin was just happy that nothing had happened to Jason. He wanted to hug him. To tell him. But he wasn’t sure if he should. If that was the right parenting decision. The boy had behaved wrong. He had known that his parents would get mad at him. He knew how dangerous this city was! He knew all the things that could have happened to him!

Marvin looked at Jason. At Jason’s eyes that were fixed on the board, not daring to look up. 

“Jason, I’m an arsehole,” he finally said, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Huh?” Jason asked, taken by surprise.

“I’m just- I’m not a great dad, I know that.”

“No…” the boy attempted half-heartedly.

“It’s fine, it’s not a trick to get you to tell me otherwise.”

“You can be a bit mean sometimes…” Jason admitted.

“Yeah… Honestly, I don’t give a fuck if you play any sports or not”

“But you said..-“

“It was bullshit. Do what you want to do, okay?”

“I wanna play chess”

“Then chess it is”

“No baseball?”

“Not if you don’t want to. I haven’t heard of a president who played baseball anyway.”

“Eisenhower did. Oh, and Lyndon Johnson. And I think lots more, but it’s said that Nixon was the biggest fan among all of them. It’s America’s favorite pastime.”

“America’s favorite pastime is watching TV and getting diabetes, Jason.”

“You really think I’m gonna be president?”

-

“Do you want my coat?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want my coat? You look cold,” Whizzer repeated, Marvin lifting his face out of his hands to look at the other man. They were sitting on a stoop in front of a phone booth, waiting for Trina to come pick them up. After having called first her and then the police, they had gathered there, Jason sitting next to Marvin, his little body draped against his side, eyes closed and his breaths steady, Marvin’s coat wrapped around his shoulders. Whizzer sat on the other side, a few inches of space between them.

“I’m fine,” Marvin disagreed quietly, looking away again, at the street, his arm around Jason tightening every time someone walked by. “You can go, if you want to,” he added after a while.

“Do you want me to?” Whizzer asked, but Marvin didn’t answer.

“I thought you wanted to,” he said then and Whizzer shrugged.

“I don’t know, Marvin,” he admitted, before both of them were silent again.

For the first time that night, Marvin allowed himself to look at Whizzer and actually process what he was seeing.

He hadn’t seen Whizzer in about a month now, but felt like he was looking right back into the past, seeing the Whizzer from the past summer again. 

Well, with some alterations.

Whizzer still had the bruise on his lip, the stitches having been removed, but the wound still not having closed up properly yet. He was back to wearing neat clothing, his shirt ironed and his pants cuffed, and his hair was back into the neat little swoop, and not constantly falling into his eyes. But it wasn’t just the outside that seemed to be back to normal. His hands weren’t shaking anymore, his body not rocking back and forth and he wasn’t stuttering or abandoning sentences half-way through.

“So you got your pills then?” Marvin asked, but it was more of a statement rather than a question. He thought about what that meant: Whizzer must have a new person who pays for his stuff and he must be back to fucking every guy in the clubs, being his usual charming self again.

It was crazy to think about how desperate Marvin had tried to avoid this from happening, and here they were. 

Still, Marvin didn’t feel angry. 

He just felt tired.

“Yeah,” Whizzer shrugged, not looking like he wanted to elaborate very much on the topic of how many guys he had had to blow for them.

It was odd to see Whizzer after what he had seen on the video tape.

To see the same brown eyes on a much older face.

To hear the same voice talking, only much deeper and much calmer.

Marvin knew he had leverage with that tape.

He could scoff at Whizzer and call him by his old name.

He could laugh about the fact that he apparently had let his childhood hold him back.

That he hadn’t broken free.

That he was still influenced by it, never having proven anyone wrong, never having made a career for himself.

But Marvin didn’t want to.

“That’s good. I am happy for you. I am sorry for the stuff I said to you, it was bullshit.” Marvin said, surprising himself with these words and surprising himself even more with the realization that he honestly meant them. 

“Your wife’s here,” Whizzer answered, as an approaching car’s headlights lit up the dark street.

-

Seeing Whizzer on his couch was surreal.

From a modern perspective, the feeling is best described like seeing a character from your favorite show make a guest appearance in another show that isn’t necessarily one of your favorites, but like you watch it when you’re super bored.

But this is not the way that Marvin would describe it, because those wacky crossover episodes from the Disney Channel were not produced yet and even if they had been, he wouldn’t have watched them.

So he just stared, not having the words to describe his feelings about the situation like some millennial nowadays would have.

Whizzer didn’t look all too sure either, holding a cup of tea in his hand that Trina had handed him, but not taking a sip from it as if he thought he thought that she had put poison in it.

“You have a really nice house,” Whizzer tried, making Trina beam. 

“Thank you! Yes, it’s strange you’ve never been around, now that you and Marvin have become such good friends.”

“Yeah, strange…” Whizzer agreed, glancing up at Marvin, not able to suppress a slight grin, quickly lifting the cup to his lips. “I probably should get going now, though, it’s pretty late,” he said, as he put it back down, making a motion to get up.

“Oh, no way! You HAVE to stay here overnight!” Trina disagreed, shaking her head. “It’s way too late to head home now, you’ll get robbed! And in the morning I’ll make a nice breakfast to thank you for finding Jason!”

“I didn’t find J-“ Whizzer started, but Trina was already hurrying around to gather several blankets and pillows.

“Our guestroom is a little messy right now because we’re repainting the walls. See, I told the painters to paint them a soft lilac and they painted them purple! It’s a mess in there!”

“I can just head on home. I really don’t think I’ll get robbe-“

“Oh no, our couch pulls out and it’s really quite big and comfortable! I hope that’s okay! It really IS comfortable! Marvin sleeps on it sometimes, tell him, Marvin! Isn’t it comfortable?” Trina insisted, ramming her elbow into Marvin’s side.

“Ouch! Trina, what the - .Uh, yeah, super comfortable” Marvin agreed and Trina looked at Whizzer with hopeful eyes.

“Okay, sure, why not,” Whizzer finally agreed, shuffling out of the way to let her pull out the couch and even put a fitted sheet on it before she stocked it with more pillows Marvin even knew they had. Marvin just stood beside her, watching the madness unfold, but unable to intervene. As Trina had finished, the couch really did look comfortable, some people (Marvin!!) might even argue it looked more comfortable than Whizzer’s own bed. 

It took Trina three more times of Marvin counting to 50 about whether Whizzer needed a glass of water, two more times for asking whether five blankets were enough for him and six times until Whizzer had convinced her she didn’t need to go get an array of Marvin’s clothes for him to change into something more comfortable. 

Finally, Trina retreated upstairs to go to bed, leaving the both men standing next to each other in silence.

“Well, good night, Marvin,” Whizzer said, almost coldly, reminding them both that they were still, technically, fighting.

“Good night, Whizzer,” Marvin answered, before walking upstairs as well, to his wife.

-

Of course, Marvin couldn’t sleep.

You try sleeping when your wife gets up every ten minutes to go to Jason's room to check he's still there.

That's why he made his way downstairs to get a glass of water.

How, instead, he found himself crouched down next to the couch, just watching Whizzer sleep, he didn't know.

But he didn't complain either.

Whizzer's face was pressed against the uncomfortable couch cushion that was actually just there for decoration, a tassel already pressed against his cheek, prone to leave a mark there tomorrow morning. His jeans and button up lay next to the couch, in a neatly folded pile, leading Marvin to believe that he was only wearing his underwear, but there was no way of telling because he was wrapped tightly in one of the blankets. 

It was the thin floral one they kept next to the couch but which no one ever seemed to use because there was never anyone watching TV this intensely, to be wrapped up in a blanket. Marvin tried to imagine the kind of people who would sit there, all huddled up and watching the screen, just enjoying each other’s company. 

Just feeling warm and cozy and loved.

He reached his hand out, trying to move a second tassel that had made its way under Whizzer’s face. 

At his touch, the other man’s body twitched in surprise, Whizzer opening his eyes, hesitantly looking around for a second before he seemed to remember where he was.

“Marvin,” he sighed, in a scolding voice. “What are you doing?”

“You look like a baby bunny in your sleep.”

“What the actual fuck.” Whizzer sighed, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Around 4am.”

“Christ, go to bed!” Whizzer sighed, pulling the blanket over his head.

“I don’t know how you can sleep after everything that has happened…” Marvin disagreed, his leg slowly starting to cramp up, so he sat down on the floor, laying his head on the couch, his forehead touching Whizzer’s arm through the blanket. Upstairs, he heard Trina finally get back into bed for the millionth time, closing the bedroom door, probably not even noticing he wasn't there.

“Nothing happened, the kid’s totally fine!” Whizzer sighed, putting the blanket back down from his head. “Hey, watch it,” he warned then, pulling his arm away from Marvin. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I apologized!” Marvin sighed, head still lying on the couch, his voice coming out as a muffled sound.

“Still doesn’t make it right,” Whizzer answered, flicking his head with his fingers.

“Ouch! That hurt!”

“It better!” Whizzer chuckled. “I was just going easy on you earlier because you were a wreck”

“I’m always a wreck”

“If that ain’t the truth,” Whizzer smiled, running his hands through Marvin’s hair for just a second. As he pulled his hand away again, Marvin glanced back up.

“Hey, Whizzer?” he asked.

“Marvin, I’m tired,” Whizzer sighed.

“Do you know someone called Richard Miller?”

Whizzer sighed deeply, but thought for a while. “I don’t think so. Sounds boring, though. I don’t know boring people. Well, except for you, of course.”

“You do know him! I know you do!”

“Oh, don’t start! This again?!”

“No, no, no, I just mean, you know him. He gave you his address once? You have it on your cork board at your apartment?”

“You’re an actual stalker, you know that?”

“So do you remember him now, or not?”

Whizzer looked thoughtful for a while, before he nodded. “Oh, I remember him, alright. Richard, that’s his name?”

“Yeah…”

“What? So you know him?”

“Kind of. I thought so, at least. You never did go to his house, did you?

“Nah,” Whizzer shrugged.

“You kept his address, though”

“He said he’d give me three hundred dollars if I sleep with him”

Marvin’s jaw dropped, staring at Whizzer. “Three hundred?! Why didn’t you do it?!”

“Marvin, if may I so kindly remind you that I am, in fact, although you so frequently like to believe so, NOT a fucking prostitute,” Whizzer rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help a tiny smile creeping on his face.

“Who cares, even I would fuck him for that much money,” Marvin shrugged, grinning back at the other man.

“That’s exactly what Cordelia said!” Whizzer laughed out loud. “No, for real, though, I don’t do that shit,” he went on. “Plus, it seemed like it would have been first time with a guy and I REALLY don’t like doing that deflowering bullshit.”

Marvin put his head on his hands, still smiling. “So I’m special, then?”

“You wish! Who says I enjoyed it with you? You basically tricked me into it,” Whizzer teased.

“You’re a jerk; I don’t like you at all.” Marvin lied.

“Yeah, right,” Whizzer smiled, before sitting up and the blanket falling to his lap, revealing the white undershirt he was wearing. He reached his hand out to Marvin. 

“Fine, you can sit on here for a moment. Sit. Nothing else.” Marvin got up, feeling his joints cracking, before he sat down next to Whizzer on the couch. It was much bigger than the one at Whizzer’s place, but they were still squished together to both fit.

“Nice jammies, by the way,” Whizzer commented, wrapping his arm around him, as Marvin settled in between the man and the dangerous edge that’d lead him to tumble down on the carpet.

Marvin blushed, trying to think of a sassy reply, but just self-consciously tugging at the sleeve of his dark blue pajamas. They WERE kind of lame. Stupid dad pajamas, while Whizzer was there, looking like some young heartthrob in his undershirt and boxers. Whizzer didn’t seem to notice Marvin’s inner turmoil, adjusting the blanket around them both, his fingers grazing over Marvin’s thigh, as he tucked them both in.

“What you said to Jason today…that was nice.”

“Well, even I can’t be a douchebag ALL of the time,” Marvin answered.

“Yeah, just most of the time, huh?” Whizzer chuckled.

“Exactly,” Marvin agreed, shifting a little. “I just…- I just wanted him to be different. I just wanted him to change some stuff earlier so that he wouldn’t grow up to be like me.”

Whizzer looked back at him, shrugging after a while. “He’s a good kid,” he said. “I don’t think there’s much you can do about it. Just let him be himself and he’ll be fine. Hell, I started playing flag football when I was like four and I still turned out to be gay as fuc-”

“Wait what?! Is it called that because it’s for kids and they are weak or something? I can’t believe they’d call it that, that’s so offe-”

“No, no, no Marvin, FLAG football. With an L.”

“Ohhhh,” Marvin nodded. “That makes more sens- well, no actually it doesn’t. What kind of flag..?”

Whizzer laughed, rolling his eyes, before he kissed him, their lips only touching for half a second, before he pulled back again.

Marvin whined, following Whizzer’s lips, putting his forehead against his.

“No way, Marvin.” Whizzer insisted.

“Why?”

“Cause!” Whizzer said, leaning his head away. “First of all, I am still mad at you and secondly you got a wife and a kid right upstairs!” he hissed.

Marvin sighed, dropping back so that he completely lay down, body stretched out on the couch. Whizzer followed his example, dropping his head in his chest.

“He told me I have pretty eyes,” Marvin informed Whizzer.

“Who?”

“Richard”

“Oh, did he now?” Whizzer chuckled, his fingers tracing over the buttons on Marvin’s pajamas.

“Mhm,” Marvin teased, resting his head on Whizzer’s hair. It smelt like strawberries. Of fucking course it did. “He said they looked good with my dark hair.”

“That bird’s nest?” 

“Yup”

“You should have fucked him then, I guess,” Whizzer shrugged.

“He tried to”

“And?” Whizzer asked, tilting his head back up, to look at Marvin.

“Well, he didn’t offer ME money, so I got the hell out of there”

“Ah, bummer. Seems like you’re not worth more than me”

“Seems like it,” Marvin smiled softly, before Whizzer kissed him again, not pulling away this time.

Marvin felt like an explosion was happening inside of him. He didn't care where they were. He didn't care about the risk.

He put his hand on Whizzer’s chin, kissing him back, pressing him into the couch and letting the warm feeling in his body run through his veins. He shifted, getting on top, softly kissing his way to his neck, leaving pecks on his chin and his cheek, before two strong hands pushed him off again, making him tumble to the floor.

“You started!” Marvin complained, rubbing his back and trying to sit up, staring back at the culprit who wrapped himself back into his blanket.

Whizzer rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. “This is fucked up, not here, Marvin! Go back upstairs!” he said, nodding his head towards the staircase.

“You’re killing me,” Marvin sighed, standing back up, walking over to the stairs.

“If only. My life would be so much easier, believe me.” Whizzer shrugged. “Goodnight, blue eyes.”

“Night, pretty boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually cannot believe I wrote something that doesn't make you want to gauge your own heart out with a spoon to not feel sad anymore. Anyway, happy holidays, my dears! And have a wonderful New Year :)


	17. The Things He Was are Things Which I Forgot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone who I taught how to use a toilet doesn’t get to judge me,” Marvin said to Jason, dropping down in the chair next to Whizzer, before taking another sip. “You can judge me, if you want,” he informed the other man, in surrender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's a quuueeennn, I'm a queen! Where is my crown, I'm breaking dooowwwnn... (who else gets lyrics stuck in their head from my captions cuz everytime I upload a chapter, I have a song stuck in my head for like a week)
> 
> aaannyways, hi gays!! So sorry for my absence, not even gonna go into detail about why I didn't upload, but just know that all of y'alls comments and kudos mean so much to me, and I value and appreciate every single one. You guys have been so lovely and supportive, i love you all x

Jason was a smart kid.

He knew how to spell iridocyclitis.

He knew how to do complex division.

Although, that’s really not that hard, if you think about it. You just have to multiply the numerator and the denominator by the complex conjugate of the denominator.

Easy as pie.

That’s what Marvin thought, at least.

Although, come to think of it, Jason would probably NOT be able to actually bake a pie, if that was what the idiom was trying to imply. In fact, the boy had never, as long as he had been alive, managed to do as much as quietly pouring his cereal and milk into a bowl, without waking up the whole neighborhood.

Was Jason capable of doing that? 

Physically? For sure.

Mentally? Most probably.

But did he WANT to do that? Absolutely not.

And if Marvin knew one thing about his son, it was that if he did not want to do something, it wasn’t gonna happen. They tell you not to cry over spilled milk, but during his parenting career there had been many instances where Marvin came damn close. Just so many hours of trying to teach Jason responsibility and all that crap just turned into hours of knocked over cereal boxes, and yells for Trina for moral support and, of course, to clean all the mess up again.

So let me tell you, when Marvin came downstairs to find his son sitting at the table with a flawless bowl full of “Auntie Emmi’s Whole Wheat, Raisin, and Sunflower Seed Surprise”, Auntie Emmi’s nasty healthy dishwater wasn’t the big surprise.

No spills.

No noise.

Marvin frowned, glancing upstairs, towards where he had left behind his wife, still sleeping in their bed, before looking back at Jason. He briefly considered still being asleep and this being a dream, before looking around for a Trina-Clone in his kitchen. He didn’t succeed in finding one, instead spotting Whizzer standing at the kitchen counter, pouring himself his own bowl. 

After seeing him, Marvin wasn’t entirely sure how exactly it had been humanly possible to forget the presence of his gay affair in his family home, but he blamed it on the trauma of yesterday evening’s whole shenanigans, slowly starting to approach the other man, like you would with a wild tiger.

Actually, scratch that. If you see a wild tiger, don’t approach it. Run away. If you take anything away from this story, this should be it, actually.

To Marvin’s disappointment, Whizzer was fully dressed back into yesterday’s clothes already, all neat and proper, except for his dirty blonde hair limply hanging in his eyes for the lack of its usual products. Marvin was still in his pajamas, but this time at least he had thought of throwing on his bathrobe over them.

“Oh, hey, Marvin!” Whizzer smiled, as he lifted his gaze from the bowl, finally noticing Marvin coming closer. 

His smile was sweet.

Like it always was.

Like it always used to be.

The little crinkles that formed next to his eyes, which always nearly fell shut as he opened his mouth in a wide smile, the brown almost disappearing behind his long lashes. 

It was almost weird how familiar this scene was, despite all things considered.

Despite his son sitting right there next to them.

Despite the wedding pictures on the wall.

Despite Whizzer still having hated him 12 hours ago.

Here he was.

Here they were.

Just like they had been before. 

In the mornings that Marvin hadn’t quickly left the bed at the crack of dawn, with Whizzer still asleep.

In the mornings that Whizzer hadn’t quickly left the bed at the crack of dawn, to go to another party or some club.

Just like those rare mornings after they had both fallen asleep with tangled limps and shy fingers intertwined. 

But that had all been over.

Until last night.

“Hey,” Marvin tried in a clumsy attempt of acting like a functioning human being, not quite sure why he was so nervous about talking to his son and friend in his own house.

Well, when I say friend.

Were they really?

Just yesterday, Whizzer had still hated him. For quite good reasons, too, if I may say so.

Did he still hate him?

Did he tell Jason about them?

Ah.

There it was.

Marvin DID know what he was nervous about, I guess.

“Sorry we started without you, I didn’t want to wake you up, you went to bed real late last night,” Whizzer said, putting his bowl down on the table and sitting down next to Jason. “Are you feeling ok-“ he went on to ask, before Jason intersected with a “Where’s Mom?”, immediately rekindling the uneasy feeling in Marvin’s gut.

“She’s still asleep,” Marvin answered, leaving the ‘I think she needs it, after all the drama yesterday’ hang unsaid, instead deciding to channel his passive aggressive energy in a, “Good morning to you too, bud”.

“Mornin’,” Jason gave in, in a very convincing and simultaneously disheartening impression of a moody teenager, before going back to eating his cereal.

Marvin thought about scolding him, but did not really know on what grounds, since the words Jason had said were not tecccchhhnicaaally that sassy, so he decided against it, turning to switch on the coffee machine. He closed his eyes for a second with his back turned to the others, letting himself feel the pain and exhaustion that was still deep in his bones. 

Jason and Whizzer were already jabbering again, about some baseball player or whatnot, as Marvin opened the cabinet, fishing out the new box of Lucky Charms he had hidden behind the one thousand condiments they never used. Pouring first his coffee, then the sugary cereal in the bowl, he then lifted it up to his lips, taking a big gulp as he turned back around to find both Jason and Whizzer staring at him.

“Everyone who I taught how to use a toilet doesn’t get to judge me,” he shrugged, dropping down in the chair next to Whizzer, before taking another sip. “You can judge me, if you want,” he informed the other man, in surrender.

“I-” Whizzer started, but stopped himself, apparently having forgotten how to stop smiling, making Marvin smile back at him, before forcing himself to look away.

“Did you do your homework, Jason?” 

“I’ll do it at school, before the bell rings”

Marvin sighed, taking another sip from his bowl. “What, you can’t you at least lie to me and pretend you did do it?”

“Sorry. Yeah, I did my homework, Dad. All of it.” Jason corrected himself, looking back at Marvin with hopeful eyes, but Marvin shook his head.

“Now it doesn’t work anymore, go do it before school. It’ll only take a minute,” He said, nodding his head into the direction of Jason’s room upstairs.

“But-“ Jason started to whine, shooting a helpless look at Whizzer, who was awkwardly pretending to read the back of the cereal box. “Fine!” the boy grumbled, before he seemed to think of something. “But if I do, Whizzer has to take me to school.”

“What? We’re not negotia-“

“It’s fine, I’d be happy to,” Whizzer interrupted, apparently happy to be able to contribute something to the conversation other than pretending not to be here.

“Awesome!” Jason grinned. “The other kids’ll be so jealous! Jordan, you remember Jordan? At school, he keeps bragging about how good he was at camp and how thinks he was your favorite. But when they'll see you with m- ”

“Jason, our goal is not to make others jealous,” Marvin started, trying out his new ‘I-am-a-good-Dad-who-cares-about-shit-like-this’ persona, “because if we are happy with ourselves, that’s enou- aaand he’s gone,” He sighed, watching Jason who had already dashed up the stairs and hearing the familiar click of his door closing. 

“Damn it, I stole that from one of Trina’s parenting books. Now it’s wasted!” He said in defeat, looking back at the bowl in his hands. “I can probably recycle it, don’t you think? It’s not like he’s listening anyway.” He glanced up at the other man, who was looking at him with the soft smile still on his face.

“You know that he’s just gonna sit in his room and play chess, instead of actually doing his homework, right?” Whizzer asked.

“Yeah,” Marvin answered. “One day he’ll yell at his own kids and appreciate me,” he vowed.

“Do you appreciate YOUR dad more now that you have your own kid?”

“Hell no,” Marvin answered. “But he was a dick. Always telling me to do stuff I didn’t wanna do.” He said, making Whizzer chuckle and quirk his eyebrow. 

“C’est la vie.” Marvin shrugged in defence.

“So we’re cultured now, are we, Marvin?” Whizzer teased.

“Only for you,” Marvin replied, stretching his arm out, theatrically stroking his thumb over Whizzer's cheek. “Amour veut tout sans nombre, amour n'a point de loi," he said in his best high school French, before pulling his hand back to drink the last of his horrible sugar-coffee concoction. He could still feel the scorching hot coffee burn his throat, as Whizzer pressed his lips onto his.  


Whizzer’s lips tasted like raisins and milk.

Like coming home.

Whizzer pulled back far too quickly for Marvin’s taste. Like yesterday night, his head instinctively chased after Whizzer’s, desperately wanting to explore more flavors, more feelings, but Whizzer leaned back in his chair, eyes avoiding Marvin’s.

Marvin’s heart dropped, painful memories of being the cause of too much sorrow in Whizzer’s life already still stinging his insides. “What’s wrong?” he asked carefully, shaky hands placing the bowl on the table before his fingertips uncertainly found their way to rest on Whizzer’s leg.

Whizzer’s hand floated above Marvin’s for a second, before deciding otherwise, running it through his own, unusually soft, hair.

“I don’t like doing this,” Whizzer said after a while, causing the food in Marvin’s stomach to feel like burning acid.

“Oh,” he said, pulling his hand away, before Whizzer hesitantly caught it with his own, holding his hand in both of his.

“No, no, no, I don’t mean I don’t like…us. In general. I like what we do. It’s good. I just don’t like doing these things…here. I- Marvin, this is your family. I am – I am kinda the villain of this story.” He said, lowering his voice so much that even Marvin could barely understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Marvin didn’t understand at first, staring back at Whizzer. “Of whose story?!” He asked. This wasn’t some stupid fairytale, this was his life! “I think that at this point we’ve established that I can manage very well to be the villain of my own story, if you wanna call it that.” Marvin shook his head, swallowing a ‘don’t be ridiculous, Whizzer’.

Whizzer didn’t look convinced, letting Marvin’s hands go again, the temperature in the room suddenly feeling like it had dropped below the freezing point.

“I am ruining all of this!” Whizzer hissed, throwing his hands up to gesture at everything in the house. “This is wrong, why can’t you see that?” he asked, only making Marvin more irritated.

“You didn’t do anything, Whizzer!” 

“Yes, I did! You know I did! You said I was your first. And I saw your ring, I fucking saw it. I fucking knew your son! I knew your wife! But I didn’t care! But being here…-” Whizzer ranted, getting louder, unable to stay seated, jumping up from his chair and pacing the room.

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true.” Marvin said quietly, hands folded in his lap, trying to look at Whizzer with kindness. With patience. With anything that’d calm him down. Also, anything that’d stop him from getting any louder, making all the people in the neighborhood hear about this.

Marvin closed his eyes and counted to twenty in his head. “Come here.” He tried then, reaching his hand out to Whizzer, who was still pacing. “Come.” he repeated, stretching to nudge Whizzer’s fingers, making him step closer at least, Marvin’s fingertips brushing over the back of his hand.

“Whizzer, you didn’t do anything wrong. I know you’re worried about Jason because you yourself had a bad childhood. You probably felt like you were the one that put a strain on your parent’s marriage, and that now you’re doing it again. But listen this is dif-“ Marvin stopped himself, immediately knowing that he had just fucked up. Whizzer didn't know he had watched the video on the VCR cassette. Whizzer should never know he had watched the video on the VCR cassette. It was an invasion of privacy. It was a sign of disrespect. It was stealing from Whizzer's fucking trash. 

Whizzer silently took a step back, staring at Marvin. “Excuse me?!”

“I just…- I figured. It was just a guess,” Marvin stuttered. “Anyway, listen, I just want you to know tha-“

“You think I am such a fucking loser, don’t you.” Whizzer said, and for some reason these words hurt more than any insults he had flung at Marvin over the course of the last year. 

Maybe it was the tone he said it in. Dangerously calm. Frustrated. Disappointed. Exhausted.

A tone that was so unlike the Whizzer he had once met at the Jewish Center, who was so full of life and full of light. And this time Marvin couldn't blame it on Whizzer's lack of medication. 

Maybe it were the words he said. How what he said was not what Marvin thought at all, but at the same time showing how he had acted this whole time. He couldn’t blame Whizzer for thinking this, when he was just saying out loud what Marvin had thought for the majority of their relationship.

It was the shame in hearing it said out loud, now that he knew he had been wrong. It was the pain in seeing how his thinking had translated into Whizzer himself. 

He felt toxic. Toxic for Whizzer, when Whizzer was so good for him. Like he was draining the life out of the other man. While he had been living a, more or less, comfortable double-life, getting to explore new, however scary they were, aspects of his life, he was ruining Whizzer’s. 

He had made him lose his job, for God’s sake! 

He was constantly dragging him into his family problems or had let out his frustrations on him.

And what did Whizzer do?

Worry about destroying his family, apparently.

Marvin almost despised him. 

For being good.

He had hoped that Whizzer would interrupt him or yell at him, but the other man just stared back at him, waiting for an answer.

“Whizzer, I just…-” he began, wanting to tell him all of this, wanting to explain himself, but he just couldn’t. 

He felt like he should apologize, but he didn’t dare because it’d give Whizzer an opportunity to decline the apology.

“It’s…- I-“ Marvin tried again, trying not to look at Whizzer and fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe instead. “Did you…- did you know that you can mathematically prove that 1+1=0?” He asked instead, the words just kinda spilling out of his mouth. “You begin with -1 = -1, then rewrite that as -1/1 = 1/-1, and then then square-root both sides so that, since a/b squared equals a squared over b squared, you obtain i/1 = 1/i, where i is the square-root of -1. But then multiplying both sides by i would yield i squared = 1, or -1 = 1, hence 1 + 1 = 0.”

As he stopped, the silence filled the room again, worse than before. Slowly, he looked back at Whizzer, who was not looking at him anymore, instead looking out of the window.

“I gotta go to the bathroom…” Whizzer finally said, turning around, and leaving Marvin alone with his thoughts. He picked up the newspaper that lay on the table, whacking himself in the face with it.

Stupid.

So stupid.

Why couldn’t he just say what he meant, like every single other human being on this planet?!

He put his head in his hands, trying to remember anything he had learned in his bar mitzvah classes, although, come to think of it, he wasn’t too sure if a Jewish god would care too much about fixing the whole committing-adultery-with-another-man situation here.

A couple of minutes later, he faintly heard the bathroom door open again, before feeling two hands on his shoulders. As he looked up, he saw Whizzer, whose fingertips were running over his neck and chest, before the taller man sat down in his lap, pulling him in for a kiss.

“What h-” Marvin tried to ask between breaths, not able to break this apart again, gasping as Whizzer put his lips to his neck, starting to harshly suck at the tender skin.

“Shhh,” the other man ordered, accompanied by sinking his teeth into the exposed flesh. So Marvin obliged, letting out a small moan before pressing his hand on his mouth. Whizzer, however, captured his hand, pulling it down again.

It was almost like they were playing a game.

A sick, messed-up game.

But a game nevertheless.

As Whizzer held Marvin’s fingers in his, lips still working on his neck, his other hand snaked down between Marvin’s thighs.

“No, wait,” Marvin protested, listening intently if anybody else was near, before his mind went blank as he felt Whizzer push his hand down his pants. “Whizzer…” he scolded, Whizzer’s lips back on his, quieting his though process. He let his own hand slide underneath Whizzer’s jeans in return, his hand tightly grabbing at Whizzer’s butt. He opened his eyes for a second, to look at Whizzer’s reaction, the other man continuing to kiss him, but his eyes being open, looking over Marvin’s shoulder, at the staircase.

Marvin didn’t understand.

Until he heard a faint gasp.

That was all.

There was no vase falling down and shattering.

There was no scream.

There was just the smallest exhalation of air from Trina’s lungs.

The horrible silence of betrayal.

He quickly pulled his hands back, holding them up, as if the police were here to arrest him.

And looking back at her, he did indeed feel like he was looking into the barrel of a gun.

Although what he found opposite to him, were just the teary eyes of his wife.

Somehow, this was worse.

The only noise came from Whizzer, who got off of Marvin’s lap, straightening up, and walking to the front door.

Of him putting his shoes and coat back on. 

Of him turning around, his face unreadable, but not sad.

Not joyful either, though. 

Silly.

He was acting silly.

As if he wasn’t frozen in time.

As if Marvin’s life hadn’t just been shattered to pieces.

Holding the door handle in his hand, the other man reached into his pocket, holding the tiny orange pill bottle in his hand and jiggling it demonstratively.

Marvin didn’t understand,

Until he understood.

Whizzer had found the bottle on the bathroom floor, where Marvin had left it last night, after he had downed half the pills and thrown them back up.

Whizzer didn’t know about that, of course.

Whizzer just knew that Marvin had a pill bottle with Whizzer’s name on it and that there was Whizzer’s medication dumbed into the toilet. 

And despite his wife looking at him in disgust and bewilderment, Marvin felt bad because of something else.

Because Whizzer had done this on purpose.

Because he had wanted Trina to catch them

Because he had wanted Marvin to suffer.

Instead of becoming good, good like Whizzer, Marvin had made Whizzer bad.

The smiling, enthusiastic Whizzer.

The kind, loving Whizzer.

Marvin had ruined him.

And Marvin felt more ashamed of what he had done to Whizzer than what he had done to Trina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point, my chapters are 10% vine references, 10% really random math stuff, and 150% angst. Anybody google the French phrase Marvin says? It's some real cute shit. Also, why do I feel like an English teacher would spend like five lessons on the symbolism and meaning of my 1+1=0 thing?  
> Anyway, one more chapter to come, till we're done here. Stay tuned.


End file.
